


Cosmic Railway

by pcysarcasm



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, dark mermaids, main focus is on seho, mermaid au, minor chanhun and xiuyeol, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pcysarcasm/pseuds/pcysarcasm
Summary: Sehun had known war all his life, growing up in a city thorn apart and controlled by a ruthless Queen, but it's when he meets the mysterious Northerner that he learns that being at war really means being in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear lovely readers,  
> relax, put some music on – I recommend ２８１４ - 新しい日の誕生 – let the hurry and the chaos of your everyday life fade to the sides, becoming peripheral, as you enjoy this slow-burn seho fanfic! I had posted a part of this half a year ago but took it down, edited it (again and again) and here it is now! I hope I can publish one chapter each month but even though I will try my best, I cannot promise it. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated.  
> Happy reading!

 

 _"In the desert_  
_I saw a creature, naked, bestial,_  
_Who, squatting upon the ground,_  
_Held his heart in his hands,_  
_And ate of it._  
  
_I said, “Is it good, friend?”_  
_“It is bitter - bitter,” he answered;_  
_“But I like it_  
_Because it is bitter,_  
_And because it is my heart.”_

_-The Heart / Stephen Crane_

 

 

At first glance, they look frighteningly human. Hidden by the shadows, Sehun is squinting at them, trying to catch a better look at the two figures. They are standing in the middle of the old town square, staring upwards at the jagged edges of the houses which are towering into the sky. Both of them are covered from head to toe and dirty water is dripping from the hem of their clothes, falling in constant motion, each drop set in place, unmoving, still– a perfect illusion of time and life happening. Their faces, hidden by shadows, are reflected in the shallow pools of water, black against the wet asphalt, black and covered in spashes of colour– a green, a blue, a purple.

In the pale light of the early summer morning, they remind Sehun of ghosts; former inhabitants who are standing in front of their ruined dwellings. He presses his backpack tight to his chest and takes a few steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Although the morning is cold, he’s drenched in sweat. He should run, yet he stands there, unable to avert his gaze. Fascinated against his own will, Sehun is observing the figures’ smooth movements that give them the appearance of dancers.

When he had first caught a glimpse of them, he had thought they were humans but now it’s clear as day that they aren’t. Sehun notices it because of the way they carry themselves, how they look around and take a few steps forward, picking up the extent of the surrounding destruction and reflecting it in their gestures and attitude. There’s something fluid about them, too quick and fleeting to be human.

Chanyeol’s strong hand settles on Sehun’s shoulder. "Come on, let’s get out of here!" his best friend whispers.

“Those.. Those are...” _Mermaids._

The grip on Sehun’s shoulder gets stronger. “I know,” Chanyeol mutters. “We can’t let them discover us.”

He doesn’t sound scared in the slightest but Sehun knows the truth: his best friend is terrified. Sehun swallows. Of course he is. It hasn’t been that long since Jongdae and the other river people salvaged a battered corpse from the harbor. Moreover, Sehun has heard rumors on the black market that two of the queen’s guards were found dead a few days ago– with wounds on their necks and an expression of horror plastered on their hardened faces.

Slowly, Sehun withdraws, taking one groping step after the other, crouched and careful so that the crumbled marble doesn’t crunch under his shoes. Still holding the backpack like a shield in front of his chest, Sehun tries to calm his thoughts. Three more steps, two more to the wall. A shiver runs down his spine. He can hear his heart beating strong and frightened and terrified against the fragile cage of his ribs.

Could it be that they’ve already found him and were now tracking his every movement? Even though Sehun has never seen a mermaid’s face in his life, he can vividly imagine how their cold, dead eyes are boring into his back. He thinks of the tales: beastly grimaces, fangs and tongues long and sharp as a dagger, and eyes as clear and green as the Hangang, which would paralyze anyone who looked too deeply into them.

Although Sehun is so tense and scared that he can hardly breathe, he can’t help wondering how they really look like. Shortly before disappearing behind a corner, he casts a last quick glance back at the place where they were standing just seconds ago, but sees nothing. Only the water, which had been dripping out of their wet, lump-like cloaks, is still sparkling on the stone floor.

“Chanyeol! They are gone!”

Sehun’s words are barely perceptible, but Chanyeol turns around, frowning. His eyes are usually soft, but here, in the shadows, they’re more than ever pale blue hawk-eyes, an impression that is accentuated by his black eyeliner.

“Fuck!” he blurs out between clenched teeth.

Sehun knows he and his best friend are thinking the same thing right now. They exchange a silent look and then run towards a wall and duck behind it. Hiding in the shadows, they hold their breath but it’s already too late– Sehun can hear the sound of marble debris crunching underneath rapid steps. Steps which are coming closer and closer.

There, Chanyeol points with his finger. To the demolished school!

Sehun has fled many times before: from the queen’s men who had stirred up the black market, from thieves, from drunkards and last but not least, from hunters who had taken him for a thief. But this time, he has to be faster, and quieter. He could outrun Chanyeol, who is tall and lanky and gifted with poor balance, but following his best friend is oddly comforting now, helping him to think rationally.

Silently, they slip over an ivy-covered doorstep and scurry through a wide corridor. Students must have walked here once, years ago, when the building still had a roof and climbing plants hadn’t managed to cover the walls yet. Looking up, Sehun takes in the pale, stinging clouds that run across the white morning sky. He knows every corner of the city, from the hall, where students used to sit and dined at long tables, to the magnificent main street paved with black marble. He knows the small marketplace, the winding streets, and the ruins in which the merchants used to hoard silky fabrics and furs.

They rush through a backyard and from there across highly arched, narrow bridges, which are leading over the canals that branch off from the river Hangang. Creepers have caught underneath the bridges and are stretching their pale green fingers to the mossy stairs. Sehun and Chanyeol circle around a church ruin and run towards the magnificent city palace, whose two marble figures no longer carry the roof, but only the sky.

At the corner of the palace, Sehun stops, breathing quickly, trying his best to make no noise even though he feels like his heartbeat must echo in the streets. He can taste the burn of his heart on his tongue where his muscles convulse from the sudden action. His bones seem to be tugging him closer to the ground and even his breathing is boisterous and intrusive to his own ears.

Where are they? He listens tensely. No pawing, no noise, but still– there is something. He flinches when Chanyeol nudges him with his elbow, but he has long ago realized it too: the barking of dogs, dull and far away, but quickly getting louder.

The Queen’s men.

Sehun and Chanyeol exchange a look and study the scene. It’s an unfavorable place for an escape. A few lanes and paths are branching off from a small square near to where they are standing. Whichever direction they choose, as soon as they move, they will possibly be seen by someone.

Sehun squints upwards. A marble giant stares back down at him. A dove has built its nest in one of the giant’s arms; a safe place in a city full of stray cats and certainly a good vantage point. Chanyeol frowns in question when Sehun throws his backpack on the floor and gets rid of his shoes. Realizing what Sehun is about to do, he gasps in horror. He jumps up, grabbing for his best friend's sleeve, but Sehun is faster and has already found a gap in the wall.

He quickly shimmies up, missing bricks and notches in the giant's leg serving him as footholds. Now Sehun is glad that he has put on loose trousers, which give him enough room to move. When he casts a glance over his shoulder, he sees how angry Chanyeol is. His best friend’s cheeks are a glowing red and his eyes are burning with painfully restrained rage. Down! screams his stare, but Sehun shakes his head and climbs on.

He pulls himself up, hand over hand, being careful not to fall. His muscles start throbbing after only a few minutes of climbing, and the sharp stone is cutting into his bare toes. With a tremendous effort, he pulls himself over the edge of a garment fold, painfully scraping his ankles. He stifles a hissed curse, forcing himself to endure the burning pain without making a sound.

Sitting in the fold of the giant robe like in a hammock, Sehun lets himself enjoy the triumph, the throbbing and hauling in his arms and the intoxicating feeling of height. A second later, he’s cautiously leaning forward and peering down to the streets. From up here, the city looks like a labyrinth, and the canals like pale veins. Beyond the Hangang river, the new city rises from the morning mist. Many of the houses have bright, new facades, but there’s also a long row of old buildings along the river.

A gust of wind blows through Sehun’s blond hair and he shivers. The barking is very close now and it sounds like it’s coming from north. With his heart pounding, Sehun peeks into the alleys, looking for them– for mermaids or the queen’s men, Sehun’s isn’t sure. He casts a glance down, but his best friend is nowhere to be found. Probably hiding but where, Sehun’s not sure.

Where are they?

He squints. There, in the old alley next to the canal: puddles on the ground, a trail of drops. A sliding movement, the folds of a rag. The mermaids must have lost sight of them and are now fleeing from the queen’s dogs.

Relieved, a breath escapes Sehun’s mouth. He glides over the stone, shimmies down and casts a scrutinizing glance towards the street corner. It looks safe enough to jump. Sehun lets himself fall to the ground, absorbs the impact of the clash with his hands and feels wetness. Terrified, he shoots up and stares at his wet palms. Mermaids had not only been close nearby, but right behind them. Surely that’s why Chanyeol is nowhere to be found.

"Come out," Sehun whispers into the shadows, down the street. "They're gone, but the hunters are coming right at us. We have to get away from here!"

He waits but gets no answer. The whirr in his stomach is hard to ignore. Where the hell is his best friend? Did the mermaids get him? A series of rattling noises startle Sehun: hoarse barking, falling rocks– as if remnants of a wall were collapsing. Then: a call and a shot. Sehun flinches and ducks, not expecting the Queen’s men to be so near.

Before he can do much, a hunter appears at the corner of the street. His coat consists of dark and light leather scraps, which in their regular arrangement remind Sehun of a chessboard. The hunter's eyes close as he raises his rifle, aiming at something across the street. The shot almost rips Sehun apart.

Instinctively, he saves himself in an archway. His ears are ringing and his whole body is in shock. Shivering, he huddles against the remains of a broken door and makes himself as small as possible. They are not after him, he tells himself in a desperate attempt to calm down. The hunter has probably not even noticed him yet; he must be way too focused on hunting mermaids to pay attention to a skinny, human boy.

The smell of burned propellant– dry, and reminiscent of smoked flesh– causes sudden nausea. Sehun thinks he has to vomit right here and then. If not for the door which is giving him support, he would surely faint. Then: a pale ray of sunshine is caught in meshes of a fishing net. Behind this dirty net, Sehun thinks he sees the twinkling of eyes, but the dark spot where a mouth should be is far more terrible.

The thing gives a hiss, a strangled sound. Some liquid spills out of the dark spot– then another sharp bang is whipping through the air. The creature rebounds and staggers backwards as the shot reverberates in the alleys. It loses its balance and breaks down, sinking to the ground like an empty cloak. Breathless and stunned, Sehun remains silent, eyes wide open, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stale stench of blood, and watches it writhing and suffering until it lies motionless.

A dead thing lies to his feet now. Sehun stares at it, unblinking.

"Here! Traces leading to the east!" calls a man's voice. Dogs bark and a hunter storms towards the body.

Sehun jumps up and runs for his life. His mind is empty, his reaction a main instinct and his body focused on survival. Adrenaline rushes through his veins in an attempt to keep him alive. All of his muscles and sinews are on fire. He turns sharply around a corner and dives through a stone arch, and almost slips on scree. The pain on his bare sole makes him flinch. Staggering, he catches himself and runs on, over the fountain square to the big stone bridge.

He has to meet Chanyeol. Surely his friend is already on the way to the Great Bridge– it’s where they always meet up. Sehun’s feet are aching, but he runs even faster, ignoring his burning lungs. Only when the Great Bridge comes fully into view, he dares to slow down. He looks over his shoulder and no hunter nor dog comes in sight.

Relieved, he finally stops running. His own gasping breath sounds strange in his ears and he shivers out of shock. Chanyeol is nowhere to be seen and for an anxious minute, Sehun imagines that the hunters have arrested him, or that he has been wounded or even killed by a mermaid.

“Please,” he cries out, light-headed and close to tears. “Please be alright.”

He lets himself fall to the ground, exhaustion coming over him. He looks at the Hangang and takes in the evening sun which is painting a trembling shadow of the Great Bridge on the pale green water. The scenery is familiar and calming: transport and rowing boats are floating in the waves, and swans are shaking drops of water from their plumage– something strangely comforting and familiar like the taste of spearmint that lingers in the back of one’s mind or the feeling of old books between one’s fingers. Sehun’s heart calms and he rests his head on his palm, waiting.

As usual, Chanyeol emerges unnoticed out of thin air. He’s soaked in dirty water; his shirt fully transparent, his brown skin glistening soft in the dim, yellowish evening light. Sehun swallows and clenches his fist. Here, now, he can’t wrestle down the feeling of anger that rises like bile in his throat.

"Damn, where the hell have you been?" he hisses at his best friend.

Chanyeol staggers forward, relieved. “Thank god!” he exclaims. “I heard shots and thought…”

Sehun tilts his head and studies the different shades of red in Chanyeol’s hair, observes the way his best friend’s eyes grow larger, the way the fear creeps in.

“Nothing happened to me,” he says.

Chanyeol looks at Sehun quite strangely, drops the backpack and grabs for his arm, pulling him to his feet and taking him firmly in his arms.

“Thank god you’re alive,” he mutters into Sehun’s hair.

Ice flows through Sehun’s veins and paralyses him. Back is the smell of gunpowder in the air, the click of a loaded gun.

“Shut up.”

It’s a hissing sound, full of desperate frustration. His blood starts to tremble and shake with something he can’t comprehend, and before he realizes it he’s crying. He can feel Chanyeol’s heartbeat racing against his own, fast and steady and he wonders why so many people measure their love in heartbeats because the sentiment may be nice but terribly unreasonable– heartbeats can race, heartbeats can slow, heartbeats can end. It’s the adrenaline that keeps the paces changing, nothing else.

“Where the hell were you?” Sehun asks, while the anger he felt a second before fades like nicotine smoke in thin air.

Letting him go, Chanyeol takes a few steps back. "I tried to jump on a boat and hide there but slipped.”

Sehun forces a faint smile. "You should have given me a signal."

"I tried, but you didn’t look down to me! What else could I have done? If you had waited five seconds longer instead of running away then you would have seen me."

Sehun straightens up. “I’m sorry. You are right. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I thought climbing the statue would be an amazing plan. When I came back down you were gone and I had to flee. There was a creature... and the hunters... shot it,” he explains.

It takes him a lot of strength to speak the words in a matter-of-fact way, without revealing the sadness, the horror and the confusion.

Chanyeol's eyes get big. Light reflects in them, making them look like the pale, green river. "You saw how they killed it?" he asks.

Sehun can only nod in silence, wearing a carefully chosen mask of boredom. Chanyeol, on the other hand, pales as if a mermaid was standing right in front of him.

A silent moment passes. Chanyeol frowns at him- not judgment, never that, just concern. “Thank god nothing happened,” he eventually breathes out.

Sehun nods and takes one last look at the city before motioning for his best friend to follow him over the bridge.

"We should go back," he says, with his reasonable voice, which fortunately hasn’t disappeared. "And please don’t tell Minseok about anything. You know how worried he can get...”

Chanyeol considers him for a moment too long, and then smirks enough for dimples to appear at the corners of his mouth. Sehun knows he’s still worried and even more so scared underneath that smile; he doesn’t have to pick his best friend apart to see what’ so obviously raging inside of him. Chanyeol is just trying to lift the mood. Still, that smile makes some of the weight on Sehun’s shoulder fall off.

“Alright,” Chanyeol says, walking towards the great bridge.

"Wait!" Sehun suddenly calls behind him. He reaches out and plucks tiny stones out of Chanyeol’s red hair.

"If you're smart," he mumbles, "don’t tell Minseok that hunters were following us either.”

* * *

 

The hotel Cosmic Railway is older than the Queen’s reign and has existed even before the construction of the Great Bridge had started. Some say the hotel is even older than Seoul, the city itself. Even Lee Soo-man, the toothless hundred-year-old who can always be found begging at the harbor market, recalls how he used to admire the old building as a child.

The main entrance of the former mansion is pointing to the river, not to the street, and a staircase is leading from the threshold into the flood, making it easier for guests to get directly from the ferry to the hotel. At the back of the building, facing the street, is nothing but a narrow door, barely more than a servants’ entrance.

Sehun knows every corner of the hotel, even the flooded cellars where crayfish have established themselves in crumpled wine bottles and shelves covered with algae. And he knows the heartbeat of the house like his own: the dull and thumping clacking of the old elevator with it’s worn gears, which echoes through the hotel’s empty corridors.

When Minseok and him had moved in years ago, they had slowly conquered each room of the hotel like explorers working through a lost kingdom. They had cleaned up the dirt and destruction left by the Queen's men nearly twenty years ago, when she and her men had stormed the city. Room by room, they had freed the hotel from debris and dust and made it homelike. But not all windows could be replaced and the stairs which would normally connect the second floor with the third one are still destroyed.

Only when the elevator has electricity, the guests can be accommodated in the upper rooms. Mostly, however, the particularly large and sumptuous rooms on the fourth floor are empty. In some of the smaller rooms, old sails, and fishing nets are serving as curtains. Stones are supporting beds that only have three legs and many tables have warped in the wet summer nights. Nevertheless, each room is exuding a beauty that keeps visitors raving about for a long time.

Sehun follows Chanyeol through the narrow entrance to the hotel, and as soon as he enters the marble floor of the grand reception hall, he feels completely safe and content. Afternoon light is effectively diffracted by the mirror that is Minseok’s whole pride, causing the very delicate, nearly transparent petals swimming therein to become radiant. Carpets are rolled up on the walls and tools are scattered on the floor in front of the elevator shaft.

“We’re back!” Chanyeol calls out and throws Sehun’s backpack on a chair next to the front door.

"So early?"

Minseok's voice sounds dull and distant as from the deepest cellar. Sehun had intended to go upstairs and let Chanyeol do the talking, but Minseok, as always, is faster. Sehun hears the clacking and grinding of the mechanics, and then Minseok’s bright face appears in the elevator shaft.

"And? Could you get your hands on the stuff?" the man asks, and climbs out of the shaft. He’s small, cheerful, and has the brightest gummy-smile that the world has seen. Today, he’s wearing his typical brown work pants and a leather shirt that stretches across his broad chest.

Minseok smiles at Sehun and his eyes light up and do a strange thing to his face; it becomes younger, more playful. He closes the elevator with an energetic push and wipes his hands on a rag. Then, his gaze falls on Sehun's bare feet and his scrawny, bloody ankles and his smile fades.

"What the hell happened?" he screams and rushes up to him. "Why are you bleeding and where are your shoes?"

Every stranger would be terrified at such an outburst, but Sehun knows that behind the anger lies nothing but fear and anxiety which rarely allow his friend to sleep at night.

"Nothing has happened," he says. "I climbed up a wall and slid down."

"And why are you not wearing your shoes then?”

Sehun shrugs. "There was no time left, we had to go before..."

"Before what?" Minseok's finger dig into Sehun's chest, his eyes, the color of honey, suddenly hard.

"We had to flee," Chanyeol comes to the rescue. "Some hunters were on patrol."

For the second time that day, Sehun finds himself in a hug.

"For heaven's sake!" Minseok mumbles into his hair. "How many of them? Did they discover you? Oh god, you are shaking!”

Sehun swallows and shuts his eyes to shake off the memories, then gently pulls out of the hug.

"I'm just cold, nothing more," he says as calmly as possible and even manages to smile at Minseok. "We saw them, but they weren’t after us, don’t worry." It costs him a lot to make his voice sound serene and carefree.

He avoids Minseok's scrutinizing look and instead grabs his backpack. Sehun hates lying, but worrying Minseok would pain him more. He knows that if he were to tell the truth, Minseok wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next few months. Slowly, over the past years, their roles have changed– now, it’s Sehun who needs to take care of his friend.

While he spends most of his free time outside, in the city, at the market and at the harbor, Minseok retreats more and more into the underground of the house, renewing and repairing pipes, taking care of the household and keeping the elevator and baths at bay. It's as if Minseok is trying to hide from what is happening in the city: from the hunters and the mermaids, which Sehun isn’t even allowed mention inside the hotel.

"We couldn’t get any of the ingredients," Chanyeol complains. "And I’m sure there isn’t anything left on the market by now, either."

Minseok swallows again, and finally relaxes. His fists open and he nods. “At the moment we have enough food for the few guests anyway,” he grumbles, turning back to the elevator.

Chanyeol gives Sehun one last serious look before he leaves. He’s already late for his shift at the harbor. Sehun hangs his backpack over his shoulder and runs upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

* * *

 

There’s a yawing hole where the stairs to the third floor should be. Everything that connects the upper part of the Cosmic Railway with the lower one is a wooden ladder which, of course, no guest in their right mind would use. Sehun climbs up that said latter without much difficulty and pulls himself through a hole in the ceiling, directly into the hallway on the third floor.

The carpet used to be a bright red once, but the color has faded over the years and only a fail pink is left of it. The room’s doors are still a bloody red, but the paint is damaged, reminiscent of old maps of continents and islands. Sehun knows every room so well that even when blindfolded, he could walk around in any of them without bumping into a single piece of furniture. There are times when he’s sleeping in a different room every night-- mostly in rooms where something needs to be fixed. But if he wants to be all alone, there’s a very special room that only belongs to him.

The room is on the front side, facing the river, and it’s the only room with a circular window– a porthole, as is common on ships. However, the window glass is missing, which makes the room uninhabitable in winter. Nevertheless, it’s Sehun's favorite room because of the water streaks that are covering the walls, forming intricate patterns. Some of the water marks are surprisingly straight, and if he narrows his eyes, he can guess where the door to a secret chamber must have been before someone must have closed it and repainted the wall.

He enters the room and puts his backpack in the corner. On the floor lie all the things that Sehun has gradually collected: blankets that make up a sleeping camp and clothes that lay in messy stacks close to the wall. Everything in its place. And yet the unknown is nearby like an anxious bird. Sehun slowly walks towards the window, ignoring his dirty clothes and bloody feet. The ledge is wide and inviting, and when he sits down, a warm gust of wind sweeps up the river, smelling of algae and water. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. Far below, the stairs are reaching into the Hangang. If Sehun were to slip and fall he would die instantly.

He closes his eyes, breathing in the air, feeling salty energy pouring into every cell of his being, into every grain of sand and wisp of wind, and hearing the loveliest sounds– the faintest whisper of trees, the airiest sigh of wind, the half-heard, half-felt moan of the Hangang. He opens his eyes again and, for a moment, smiles at his reflection in the river, enjoying the height and the fresh wind. Then, he remembers the mermaid and the hunters who had their rifles aimed straight at its heart.

Still in shock and sad, Sehun reaches into his pocket and takes out an old photograph, bleached and fuzzy as if someone had taken the picture while walking. There’s not much to see on it: blonde hair on the edge of the picture, smooth as a mane, the idea of a bright face and a blurred laugh. As always, when Sehun looks at his mother, who he vaguely remembers as a warm voice, he feels warm and sad.

"I almost got shot today," he whispers to the blurry figure. "I saw death. I know it sounds crazy and wrong, but... I wish … the mermaid could have escaped."

* * *

 

When Sehun wakes up, the hotel is still sleeping. It’s so early that not even Minseok is on his feet. Rain is knocking against windows and the sky is still gray from the night. Sehun creeps out of bed, leaves a message on the chalkboard next to the elevator and slips through the stained-glass door.

Outside, the sun is about to rise and a brisk, faintly wet breeze is whistling through the cramped and crooked streets. The smell of fresh air clears Sehun’s mind almost immediately. He tugs the sleeves of his warm sweatshirt down over his knuckles. Drizzle catches in his blond hair as he’s walking alongside the Hangang to the harbor, past fishing boats.

Two elegantly dressed men are standing by the water, perhaps guests of a lord. They’re wearing silky garments and are marveling at a group of swans which are swimming against the current. The new houses near the harbor, which had been built in recent years, seem to be merging with the morning sky. Sehun hurries and quickly crosses the large fairground. He’s walking faster and faster, until he’s finally running; his soles hitting the smooth stone in a quick rhythm. The streets may be empty so early in the morning, but the harbor is never sleeping.

Sehun loves this sight: the fortified chain of rocks that juts out into the mouth of the river like a stone arm protecting the harbor bay. At the top of the chain of rocks rises a lighthouse. In front of it shines the queen's lodgings: a silvery, slender ship of splendor, floating on the tepid green water, and behind it extends the sea, wide and mysterious like a dark mirror that is capturing images of clouds.

A whistle cuts through the air. Sehun squints and peers towards the docks. Two iron colossi are anchored here– cargo ships from the southern islands. Tradesman which have arrived extra early to deliver wine and fabrics for one of the queen’s festivals. Right next to these ships is the Kim’s ferry. Oddly enough, she's heavily loaded, as if she's been on a night drive. Big boxes are being unloaded from the boat via a pulley. The river people are directing the freight with whistles and hand signals.

In the midst of the river people, Sehun can easily make out Chanyeol. He only has to search for a guy with red hair. As soon as he reaches the boat, his best friend turns to him as if Sehun had called him. It's spooky, but Chanyeol always seems to sense when he’s around. A smile glides over his face and Sehun returns it.

"Whenever you turn up this early, you want something," Chanyeol says, jumps from the boat to the jetty and stands in front of Sehun with his arms crossed. “What is it this time?"

"Lamp oil,” Sehun admits. "One canister is enough for me."

Chanyeol's eyes flash in amusement. “Well, I still have some oil, but whether it's enough for a canister or not depends on what I get in exchange." His smile gets wider.

"Don’t," Sehun says. "You owe me something, remember? I gave you those ropes last week."

Chanyeol’s smile suddenly drops. "What's wrong with you?" he asks promptly, noticing that something is off. “Did you have nightmares?"

Sehun curses his best friend. He always knows when something is worrying him. "Worse,” he mutters.

Now the rest of Chanyeol’s smile vanishes. "Is it because of yesterday?"

"Chanyeol!" roars Jongdae, Chanyeol’s boss. "Don’t stand around. Go back to work!"

Chanyeol looks at his boss and waves at him impatiently. Then he puts his hands on Sehun's shoulder. The touch is familiar and reassuring.

"Wait here," he mutters. "We'll be done soon."

Sehun nods. "Why are you traveling so early with load?" he asks softly. "Where do all the boxes come from?"

Chanyeol shrugs. "From the Nordland."

Sehun mouth drops open. Nobody from the Nordland ever visits Seoul.

"We dropped the freight and two passengers yesterday. Near the red rocks.”

Sehun furrows his brows. "Why not here?"

"No idea. Maybe they didn’t get permission for the harbor.” Chanyeol taps the well-filled coin bag he’s wearing on the side of his belt. “A few guards woke us up in the middle of the night and we had to pick them up."

"Chanyeol, damn it! Go to work!" Jongdae screams.

Chanyeol sighs, but lets go of Sehun and returns to the ship. A bunch of workers have gathered in front of the boat. Chanyeol picks up the rope his boss throws at him and helps to bring the boxes into the correct position. Slowly, a huge box swings over the ditch of water and hovers over the group of workers.

"Down!" Jongdae shouts and the box starts to move towards the ground. Immediately the workers underneath retreat, only a figure in a coat hesitates before taking a step to the side.

The box moves a bit, as if a living being is shifting its weight inside of it. "Careful!" Chanyeol shouts, but it's too late.

The rope which Jongdae is holding slips and the box drops with a sharp jerk. The workers scream and flee out of reach. Only the person in the coat stays at its place, hesitates for a moment, then jumps on board. The smooth, almost flowing movements, the feathering gait ... Sehun gasps in shock. Could it be that…?

The stranger reaches for the rope. Hand over hand, he pulls up the rope with all his strength. All resemblance with a mermaid vanishes in a fleeting moment and Sehun breathes in relief. On board of the ferry stands a short, agile man, nothing more or less.

In a hurry, the workers undo the ropes and carry the box to a van which is already waiting nearby. Sehun cranes his neck, but the stranger steps behind the box and disappears from his field of vision.

"Hey, Sehun! Don’t stand around," Jongdae cries out. "Make yourself useful and help to unload the freight!"

Jongdae doesn’t have to say that twice. Even though Sehun doesn’t get paid, he knows it’s always good to have connections to the river folk. Helping Chanyeol out is something he’s used to anyway too. He jumps on board and quickly walks down the steep stairs to the loader compartment. Downstairs, he pauses in astonishment at the sight of the countless boxes. The room, which normally only houses belongings of the river people, is almost stacked to the ceiling.

"Hey, let me help you," Chanyeol calls from upstairs and appears behind him. The passage between the walls and the stairs is so narrow that their arms are touching. Sehun enjoys the moment of proximity.

"What's in the boxes?" he asks.

Chanyeol shrugs and then grimaces. He has a way of speaking volumes in tone and mime.

Sehun tries to look through the holes of a box, but isn’t able catch a glimpse of the interior.

"And what about the big box that you just dumped outside?"

"Also a secret," Chanyeol lowers his voice. "But whatever it is, I don’t want to know." 

* * *

 

 

It stops raining after a while, the sky clears and shines in a transparent white. Sehun blinks at the sudden brightness as he steps out of the loader compartment and bumps into someone who is standing with his back to the hatch.

He stumbles to the side. Something wet brushes his hand, a coat swirls and he bumps his foot against a bulging bag that seems to have fallen to the ground. Before he can trip over it, Chanyeol, who’s walking in front of him, grabs his wrist and pulls him back into balance.

A curse in a foreign language hits Sehun like a slap. He looks up, utterly confused. Directly in front of him stands the mysterious man in the coat. Sehun towers over him.

"Don’t do that again," the stranger says, bending down to grab the bag.

"Then don’t get in my way," Sehun bites back.

The stranger slowly straightens up, mumbling something under his breath. Sehun crosses his arms and raises his head. "What?" he asks challenging.

The man looks young, maybe a few years older than Sehun. He’s pale, and has a small, pink mouth, full lips and a fine swinged nose. His hair is falling to his forehead in fine, tangled waves and irritation flickers in his bright blue eyes. It costs Sehun some effort to maintain the facade of cool superiority.

"Will you apologize?" he asks. "Just because I don’t speak your language doesn’t mean that you can insult me."

"I didn’t say anything for which I have to apologize for." The man’s voice is soft but threatening. "Now get out of my way."

One of his leashed dogs starts growling.

"Be careful of what you say!" Chanyeol intervenes. He steps forward and stands next to Sehun. They are so close now that their arms are touching; a team. The people around them stop working and look over to them. A word from him or Chanyeol, and Jongdae's whole family would stand behind them. But that doesn’t seem to impress the stranger. Contemptuously, he pulls up the corner of his mouth.

"How brave," he sneers. "As a pack even the most mangy dogs are brave enough to attack a bear, isn’t it so?"

Sehun feels Chanyeol's arm tighten.

"If someone behaves like a mangy dog, it’s you," he replies with forced calmness.

Jongdae approaches them and puts a hand on the Northerner’s shoulder. "Calm down, friends." He gives them both a warm smile. "There is no reason to fight."

Sehun thinks that the stranger will object, but instead the man relaxes visibly and nods. His dogs turn into playful puppies, who greet the Northerner with a joyous whimper, leap up at him, trying to lick his hands and face. The man doesn’t allow it though, takes the leashes, effortlessly lifts the heavy bag, nods good-bye to the river people and leaves the ship.

“What an ass,” Chanyeol bites out and spits on the ground. "He already made trouble last night when someone accidently bumped into a box during loading.”

Sehun releases his best friend’s wrist and steps aside. By no means did he want Chanyeol to feel his shaking hand– whether from anger or in shock, Sehun himself can’t say.

"Forget him," he mumbles, annoyed that the stranger has managed to upset him. "He's just an idiot."

"Hey, Chanyeol! Your boyfriend is pretty pale," Jongdae shouts. "Give him a kiss for comfort!"

Chanyeol and Sehun gives the man an indignant look.

"Kiss him yourself, Jongdae," Chanyeol growls.

The other river people burst out laughing.

"Oh, so sensitive?" Jongdae mocks. "If I remember it correctly, you two didn’t mind it that much last summer."

"Come on," Sehun mutters angrily, grabbing his best friend by the sleeve and dragging him along.

* * *

 

 

The ferry is a place to quarrel and laugh at. In the evening, the river people play cards or dice and sing and eat. But it’s not a place for intimacy. Sometimes Sehun thinks that the river people only love to talk about love and passion so much because they’re living so cramped on the boat that secrets and feelings can hardly thrive.

Near the lighthouse is a place that is well suited for conversations which aren’t meant for other ears. In a sheltered spot between bright rocks that comprise the port, Chanyeol had put some empty barrels last summer which serve as seating. This half-hidden corner on the ocean side is a favorite place for lovers, but today, Sehun and Chanyeol find their favourite corner deserted.

Sehun settles on one of the barrels and pulls his knees to his chest. The world around him rattles and everything drains away - then it sharpens again. Chanyeol sits down next to him and reaches out, once, and squeezes Sehun's hand. His hand lingers, maybe for a tad too long. Sehun doesn’t mind. He likes the reassurance that he’s not alone.

For a while, they only sit and look at the sea. Sometimes it’s better not to talk at all. About anything, to anyone. Fear is like a disease. Like a drug. Once someone is infected, it devours everyone close by. Eventually, Chanyeol puts his arm over Sehun's shoulder, draws him closer towards his chest, and Sehun allows the touch for once and shuts his eyes. His best friend isn’t someone who Sehun has to protect from grief like Minseok. 

He thought he had overcome the moment when the hunters had aimed at him, but now he feels the knot of fear and horror contract again in his stomach. He can see it, clear as glass, can feel the cold hand of death crawling up on him. It’s like being thrown from a pleasant dream and into a nightmare. Like a wave of sickness that comes over you and devours your senses, one by one.

Chanyeol sighes and breaks the silence: "Everyone in the city talks about how the hunters have killed a mermaid."

Sehun twitches. He remains silent and chews on his lip.

"Yesterday,” Chanyeol continues, “they found a guard. At the north gate of the palace - with his throat wide open."

“That doesn’t mean a mermaid did it.” The urge to defend the mermaids steals through him, so simple and quick, he doesn’t notice himself. But Chanyeol does. He scoffs, almost ridiculing.

"We both know what happened."

Sehun suddenly feels sick. The barrel on which he sits seems to sway with the waves.

Chanyeol falls silent and stares at the horizon. He doesn’t have to say anything, Sehun knows that they are both thinking the same thing.

"Why do they suddenly dare to show themselves?" Sehun asks, staring at the clear pool of water between the rocks at high tide.

Chanyeol clears his throat. "Who knows what their reasons are. They are animals."

“Yeah, but they always lived so secretly, always hiding from us.” Sehun frowns. “Just makes no sense.”

"They're like predators," Chanyeol says. "They turn up because they smell prey."

"Three people were killed– since yesterday four," Sehun says. "That’s not normal. What if there are more mermaids now? What if… there’s a reason why they are suddenly attacking people?”

Chanyeol sighs. "Who knows. One mermaid can kill many people, and you have a good chance of being killed next, if you're planning to stick your nose into the affairs of other people.”

It’s almost funny how well Chanyeol knows him. Sehun is angry for a split second. Angry at his best friend for not wanting to do something against the murders that are happening in their city, angry at himself for being clueless and weak, and angry at the queen and her hunters who terrorize Seoul’s inhabitants. His anger vanishes as quickly as it appears.

"Aren’t you interested in what's going on?" he asks.

Chanyeol frowns for a moment and then gives him a very serious look. "Promise me that you will stay away from danger."

Sehun lowers his head. His hand find Chanyeol’s arm, fingers and thumb pushing at the muscle there.

“Promise.”

Chanyeol smiles– a little crooked, a little broken.

* * *

 

It’s late afternoon when Sehun returns to the hotel. His nose and cheeks are sunburned and his eyes are red and teary because of the sea breeze. Today, the streets are teeming with people. Carts loaded with vegetables and grain sacks are blocking his way. Sehun starts to walk faster, causing the oil in the canister to splash to the rhythm of his footsteps.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sehun is anxious, craving the familiar sight of Cosmic Railway. It’s an irrational, detached splinter of the fear from the time when he had been alone, always moving from shelter to shelter without a stable home, not knowing if he would be alive or dead the next day; whether he would have food to eat or be hungry.

Normally, the first thing he sees is the damaged plaster near the door and the pots of herbs Minseok has placed on the window sills. But today the street is crowded. Carts filled with sacks of vegetables and grain are blocking the street. Sehun stops and frowns. The back door is standing wide open, and porters are lugging boxes into Cosmic Railway. As fast as possible, Sehun pushes past a group of people and tries to slip into the hotel.

Never in his life has he seen so many people in the hotel lobby. A shower of sparks is illuminating the elevator shaft, and the burning smell of heated metal irritates Sehun’s nose. Next to the elevator lie new, twisted steel ropes and shiny motor and control cables.

Sehun barely trusts his eyes. "Minseok?" he screams against the noise. He runs to the shaft and carefully looks inside.

A strange woman, who’s wearing a pair of welding goggles, stops her work and looks at him indignantly.

"What?" she screams at him.

"What are you doing here?" Sehun asks, utterly confused.

"What does it look like? I'm repairing this wreck of an elevator,” she replies and goes back to work.

"Did Minseok order this?"

The woman coughs. "Who is Minseok?" she shouts and turns away once again, shaking her head.

Sehun realizes that talking to the woman is a waste of time, stands up and rushes into the kitchen, almost bumping into a stack of crates filled with fresh pears. The sight that presents itself in front of him increases his panic even more. Minseok is sitting next to the stove, alone, elbows propped up and his face buried in his hands. When he notices Sehun, he quickly wipes his reddened eyes.

"What’s wrong with you?" he asks. "Where have you been so long?"

"Got us oil," Sehun replies weakly. "But the river people took a big load and I had to help them, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the oil."

Minseok snorts contemptuously. "A lot of work– for nothing!"

He reaches for the lamp that hangs directly over the table and Sehun has to shield his eyes with his hand as the kitchen is suddenly flooded with light.

"We have electricity?" Sehun asks, stunned. "Even in the kitchen? What the hell is going on here?"

"Instructions from the Queen," Minseok says dryly. He looks exhausted; his hair is dishevelled and a little astray and his eyes are red from the lack of sleep.

"The queen has arranged all this?" Sehun puts the canister down and drops onto one of the kitchen chairs. That could be good– or very bad news. "Why does she want that?"

Minseok shrugs. "Who knows." He laughs without joy. "One advantage has the thing. We don’t need to buy stuff from the black market anymore. We even get new ropes for the elevator.” He sniffs and wipes the back of his hand over his cheeks. “Isn’t that amazing?”

Sehun shrugs, not knowing how to respond to Minseok’s irony.

"The Queen has booked the entire fourth floor– because it has the largest rooms– plus a few other rooms, and we will have at least two dozen guests in a week."

Minseok sighs deeply and continues quietly, "I can’t say that I am amazed. The queen's favor can mean both wealth and honor or torture and death."

His words and their implication hang heavily in the air. Sehun takes a deep breath and swallows. He watches the sun that filters through the windows and sets upon Minseok’s purple locks of hair.

"You think about it again, don’t you?" he asks quietly. “About the war and our escape."

Minseok doesn’t look at him, he just stares at his hands and frowns. Something changes. The muscles in his face tighten and his expression closes up.

"Sometimes ... I remember too," Sehun says quietly.

There it is again, the dark, unspoken thing that stands between him and Minseok. It makes no sense to talk about it. He has already gone too far. Once again. Sehun bites down on his lip until he can feel the familiar pang of pain. Minseok and him never talk about private things; it’s too painful to let memories in that are long buried.

"Why our hotel?" Sehun asks. Lords don't reside here, everyone knows that."

"No house is closer to the river," Minseok replies. "The gentlemen want to hear the sound of the water, that’s all I know."

He looks worried for a moment, then smiles weakly. "It will not be an easy time, Sehun. We need to be careful. Whatever happens, we have to be on guard and must ensure the satisfaction of our guests." He looks at Sehun seriously. “We can’t anger them.”

* * *

 

The Queen's guests arrive three days later. Sehun is in the process of freeing the curtains of cobwebs in the large, fourth-floor ceremonial room as the clack of the elevator starts to thump through the walls.

"I'm here, Minseok!" Sehun shouts as he hears footsteps coming towards him.

The door is harshly pushed open and a porter enters the room, carrying a huge burlap sack.

"Is this the salon?" he asks in a pressed voice.

Sehun immediately lets go of the curtain, startled, and jumps from the chair.

"Over here!" he commands and helps to heave the travel bag onto the bed. It smells like leather and smoke. Too shabby and ordinary for a lord.

"Why are you bringing their luggage today? We haven’t even arranged everything yet."

The man wipes the sweat off his forehead. "Then hurry up! Your guests are here."

"What! Already?" Sehun calls out in surprise. He rushes to the window, moves up the shutters and leans outside.

It’s true. There’s a small ferry moored to the two pegs next to the stairs which are leading into the water. The carters are just about to lay a wooden platform over the steps. Ropes are lying in the main entrance, dragging into the former banquet hall. It seems like the workers want to pull something heavy, bulky into the hall, but what it is, Sehun can’t see from up here. Shouts echo up to him.

"You are far too early!" Sehun cries out. He whirls around, runs into the hall and almost collides with Chanyeol. His best friend is completely out of breath.

“They are downstairs,” he gasps. “The guests... and at least ten hunters. They have removed Minseok's bronze mirror and confiscated it. I swear, you better get your ass down there before he says something which we will all regret.”

Hunters!

“Lord,” Sehun curses under his breath and rushes to the stairs. Already on the first floor, he can distinguish voices coming from downstairs. Minseok is arguing with someone, and even from up here, Sehun is able to hear how hard the man is struggling to keep his calm.

"It's not that I don’t respect the lord’s wish," he says now. "But wouldn’t it be wiser to house the ... animals ... anywhere else?"

"Animals!" The other voice laughs as if Minseok has made a particularly funny joke. "No, the lord wants them to stay here in the hotel.."

No doubt! That sounds like a hunter!

"But the rooms are not suitable for dangerous animals and...”

"They stay here!" commands another, hard voice. "You have nothing to decide here, Kim."

Sehun takes three steps at a time. He nervously combs his fingers through his hair before stepping into the reception room next to the elevator. There are many hunters. Too many. Sehun has never felt threatened inside the hotel before, but the sight of so many rifles and knives makes him break out in sweat.

Minseok is standing in the middle of the sea of boxes and hunters, his fists digging into his hips. With the way his veins are emerging from his forehead, he must be very tense. The hunter who just reprimanded him– tall, with shoulders as wide as a drawer and a badly healed scar on his forehead that divides his eyebrow– turns to the door where Sehun is standing.

Sehun gulps, fear clenching at his heart. He feels his body tensing, his hackles rising at the sudden intrusion, as if he were a cat waiting for an attack. Breaking the uncomfortable eye contact with the hunter, Sehun walks over to Minseok and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he mutters, trying to sound as calm and comforting as possible. A sigh escapes Minseok’s lips. He crosses his arms over his chest and pushes the glasses on his nose up a bit; a habit Minseok has adopted some years ago that always makes Sehun wonder why he never bothers to buy a new one that fits better.

“Where is the owner of his hotel?” Upon hearing the gravelling voice that had just entered the room, Sehun swirls around and finds himself face to face with a beautiful sculptured man: high cheekbones and a top model haircut. It’s the rude Northerner.

The stranger’s eyes are wide in surprise when he notices Sehun but it only takes him a second to recover. "What a surprise," he says. “A child.” His voice is suave but smug, almost thick like honey and something warm spreads through Sehun’s body, something pleasurable, even though the man’s tone was clearly dismissive.

"The owner would be me, Kim Minseok and this is Oh Sehun, the co-owner," Minseok greets the stranger. Even though the words are meant to be polite, the chill in his tone is unmistakable. “And who are you if I may ask?”

The man’s intense gaze darkens. Slowly, he extends his hand and Minseok takes it in a short, firm shake. “I’m Lord Junmyeon.”

Sehun’s mouth almost drops wide open. The unfriendly Northerner from the other day at the harbor is supposed to be a lord? He hasn’t looked like a lord back at the harbor but Sehun must admit that he could pass as one now. The short man is wearing neither a coat nor a hat, but is dressed all in black, like a nobleman. He exudes a severity that commands respect. His dogs are standing next to him, calm and ready to attack, waiting for the slightest gesture from his master.

Forcing himself to stay polite, Sehun makes a small bow. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he says firmly. "I am pleased to meet you."

“The pleasure is mine,” the lord replies, with a small, polite smile and Sehun notices that his tone hasn't changed; it's still frosty and confrontational. He can’t tell whether the man is pleased to see him or not.

“Since you are here now, would you mind to explain why it is so important for your animals to reside in our hotel?” Minseok asks.

The dogs begin to growl and balk their fur. The carters are shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Out of the corner of his eye, Sehun notices his best friend. He’s leaning onto a set of boxes now, a worried expression darkening his face.

"I cannot,” the lord says, a wry smile on his lips that barely touches his eyes. He turns around, intending to let Minseok standing there like a little child. Sehun suddenly feels hot. He clenches his hands into fists until his nails painfully press into his palms. What a prick.

Minseok clears his throat. "Can you guarantee that the animals are harmless?" he asks. His tone is still polite, but something else swaps around the edges, something taunting and scoffing.

The hunter steps forward, facing Minseok with a hiss, almost as if he’s trying to teach him some respect. “Didn’t you hear what the lord said?”

“You don’t understand,” Minseok starts again, and is promptly interrupted once more, this time with far more venom and spite in his voice. "Minseok, I'm warning you for the last time!"

Sehun gets a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. If Minseok isn’t careful, they will get into trouble.

"We can also store the boxes in the banquet hall," he hurries to say. "It's right next to the kitchen and the pantry, so we won’t have to carry the food for the animals upstairs, and you can lock the room as well. That would keep the animals away from the bedrooms, but still provide safety for them.”

Minseok glares at Sehun, but Junmyeon turns around and looks like he's considering it. "Maybe not a bad idea," he concludes, but Minseok shakes his head vigorously. "By no means!" he exclaims and his voice whips through the room. His body is so tense that the vein on his neck is pulsating.

The hunter takes a few steps forward, approaches the lord and whispers something to him. In that exact moment, the elevator opens and the brass lattice rattles noisily. Due to this, Sehun can’t understand a word that’s being said, but this hunter seems to be trying his best to dispel his proposal. Arrogant asshole, Sehun curses silently.

The lord doesn’t reprimand his companion but only shrugs his shoulders. “As you say," he sighs. "Everything would be clarified then. Take care of it."

He enters the elevator and, before the cabin starts to move, turns again and faces Minseok. "You will not see and hear anything from us," he says calmly. There is a level of displeasure in his voice, and as subtle as it is, it silences the whole room. "But I do not wish to be disturbed at any rate. Never ever. No favors, no questions, no visits."

It clacks and the cabin is soaring upward.

"The cages to the fourth floor!" the hunter orders. Sehun glares at him, but the man avoids his gaze.

"That's enough!" Minseok cries out. Irrational panic takes over the short man as he loses the last bit of his composure. "Not a single cage goes anywhere until I know exactly what’s inside!"

It’s been a long time since he has seen Minseok like this, Sehun thinks, vaguely critical. Aren’t they supposed to not anger the guests?

The hunter who has been studying Minseok the whole time suddenly jumps forward. He rams the rifle butt into Minseok’s stomach like it’s nothing. It comes at Minseok with no prior warning, catching him off guard. He almost drops to the ground, but catches himself last minute.

“Minseok!” Sehun pushes past a carrier and takes a step forward, his arm reaching out for his friend.

"Step back!" the hunter orders. Sehun freezes when he sees the gun barrel. Helplessly, he turns and searches for Chanyeol. His best friend wants to step forward, but a hunter turns and blocks his way.

Sehun swallows harshly. Tension creeps into his neck and shoulders, his jaw clenches and he tries to redirect the sob that rises to his chest. Hunters don’t care about the law, they only follow the Queen’s instructions. What if they seriously hurt Minseok? He feels the familiar prickle of tears and wipes them away.

The hunter spits onto the carpet. "I’m warning you, Minseok. For the last time: that man is a guest of the queen, understood? You do what he says, or someone else will do your job around here.”

The room is completely quiet now, and the tension is thick and overwhelming, almost touchable by now. Minseok's face turns dark red.

"He understands," Sehun says quickly, his voice resonating with shock. "We both got it."

"I didn’t ask you, kid" the hunter replies coldly. A breath that sounds like a growl grinds out of his throat.

Minseok presses his lips together, but eventually nods. The hunter smiles, and then– finally– pulls the rifle back.

"Good,” he says and grins. "Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut."

The other hunters laugh. "Come on!" one of them snaps at the servants. "The boxes to the elevator!"

The crowd starts to move and the room turns into a sea full of floating boxes. Sehun makes a few big steps foward and hugs Minseok. Like this, he can feel him breathing. It’s shallow, uneven. Tears start to burn behind Sehun’s eyelids and leak from the corners.

Chanyeol rushes towards them and gets an arm around Minseok’s back. Together, they lead him past servants, into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

In the light of electric light, the bruise on Minseok's stomach looks even worse. The color is already turning purple, and when Chanyeol palpates along the ribs with practiced fingers, Minseok grimaces and curses.

"Bad news," Chanyeol said quietly. "As I suspected: A rib is broken. Does it hurt a lot?"

He places a hand delicately on Minseok’s upper arm and presses his lips into a thin line. It’s a small gesture of solace but Minseok seems to value the support. He gives Chanyeol a small smile and shakes his head. “Not half as bad as a broken heart.”

Chanyeol pauses in surprise, then lowers his head sheepishly and continues to supply the bruise.

"Minseok, are you out of your mind?” Sehun asks.“I thought we were supposed to be as polite as possible, and shouldn't start a fight as soon as a possibility emerges.”

Chanyeol makes a weak affirmative noise from the side, but Minseok brushes off the comment and shakes his head. "It's still our hotel, they can’t just do what they want."

Sehun bites his tongue. He and Chanyeol exchange a look.

"There is something wrong with these guests," Minseok continues his rant. "What's in the cages, Sehun? Did you look inside?"

Sehun shrugs. "Animals." What else could it be?

"Maybe," Minseok growls. "Maybe not."

Sehun crosses his arms. He watches Minseok’s face in the bright shine of the fluorescent light of the kitchen. He can barely feel the swift beating of his heart. Something inside of him lurches into bitterness. Minseok is right. Something does feel off. Something itches him; a nagging suspicion that something is still lingering under the surface. Something he hasn't cracked yet.

He wets his lips and starts to chew his chapped lower lip. "It seems important, otherwise the queen would never allow them to choose a hotel of their own."

Chanyeol narrows his eyes but seems to catch onto his trail of thought pretty fast because the pale blue of his irises widen a moment later. "Think about what could be in those boxes if not even the queen wants to them near her."

Minseok looks at Chanyeol, clearly shocked and Sehun suddenly feels even more scared. He hasn’t considered that yet.

They fall silent for a moment.

"What those Northerners tell us is completely irrelevant," Minseok eventually says, and shakes his head. A sliver of rage shows on his face as his cheeks redden.

“Words are water and smoke. This lord might act friendly, but have you seen his dogs? They are well trained killers. And have you seen the calluses on his hands? They must be from a gun. He isn’t some simple-minded traveler who entertains the queen with some jokes or whatever. I recognize a hunter when I see him."

Hunter. Alone the word makes Sehun shiver. He flicks his tongue over the dry cushion of his lower lip. If the lord is really a hunter then who is his pray? He feels a sudden rush of dizziness, almost as if the ground under his feet has shifted and he’s free-falling. He searches for a fixed point and finds Chanyeol's eyes, calm but frozen like a lake in winter.

Sehun takes a breath, and looks away, back to Minseok.

"They're here now," he says dryly. "There’s nothing we can do about it. We are their hosts, everything else is none of our business."

"Yeah, you’re right," Minseok nods, defeated. His eyes are worn, with dark bags under his glasses. "We will follow their command: no visits and no questions. We will stay away from them until they finally disappear."

With difficulty, he shuffles a bunch of keys out of his trouser pocket and throws them on the table. "We should stay on the first floor; the rooms with the marble bathrooms have good locks."

Sehun nods and takes the keys. "We'll stay out of their way. I'll lock everything down here which doesn’t necessarily have to be accessible."

Then: sudden, loud noises coming from somewhere in the hotel. There are shouts, and a door gets slammed so loudly that Chanyeol flinches.

"That came from the banquet hall!" Minseok cries out and rises to his feet. "They’re smashing my beautiful glass doors!" His face is distorted with pain and anger.

"No, don’t even think about it!" Sehun orders and pushes Minseok back in his seat. "We don’t need you to break your other ribs too. Let me take care of it.”

Before Junmyeon can object, he's out of the door.

* * *

 

The noises are indeed coming out of the banquet hall, and it sounds as though a heavy object is being pulled over wood. Sehun hesitates briefly before he enters the room. The simple thought of facing the hunters once again makes him so nervous that his hand cramps around the key chain. He takes a deep breath and then enters.

Afternoon light illuminates the banquet hall. The large double doors of the main entrance are wide open and the smooth wooden planks, which once connected the stairs with the ferry, protrude into the room. The marble floor is covered in patterns of black and white river roses, and years ago, when the white hadn’t been dusty and worn off, it must have looked all the more magnificent.

Sehun looks around and relaxes. There are no hunters in the room. Only a few servants, who he doesn’t know. The lord is standing next to a big box in the middle of the room and seems to be examining the rope which is attached to the box.

Sehun keeps his distance and watches him from the other side of the room. The orange light of the afternoon paints the lord’s shapes like something holy and divine.

"Be careful!” he shouts at the workers who transport the boxes.

"Watch the doors," Sehun adds and almost laughs out loud when the lord flinches.

The lord turns and stares at him for a few, drawing seconds, eyes wide open. His mouth is parted as though to speak but not a sound comes out of him. He doesn’t need to say a word, though, the message is a plea written over his face. Sehun can’t quite understand where this sudden dislike is coming from, but it seems to radiate from the lord in waves.

Sehun has to look away before he starts to feel sick to his stomach. They both stand soundlessly as they watch how the servants put the huge box into the right position. When it finally arrives safely on the ground, Junmyeon smiles and nods in relief.

It’s the last box, and so the servants give the lord a last anxious look, bow deeply and hurry back to their boat. Sehun steps to the door, closes it gently and searches for the right key to lock the main entrance. In the silence, the clink sounds are uncomfortably loud. Sehun is almost relieved when he finds the right key. He turns it effortlessly and the metallic snap of the lock echoes in the hall.

"How will you transport that heavy thing upstairs?" Sehun asks, without turning around. "It certainly doesn’t fit in the elevator.”

Junmyeon clears his throat, then, after some hesitation, he answers, "The box... stays down here.”

Startled, Sehun turns around.

The corner of the lord’s mouth twitches. "Why are you so shocked all of a sudden? You suggested it yourself."

Sehun knows he should listen to his own advice and leave, but something like defiance stirs inside of him. It may not be our hotel anymore, he thinks. But it’s my home after all.

Out of habit his voice turns sour and bitter and he forgets the good manners Minseok is so fond of, and retorts snappily, "And how will that work? Someone will have to guard the cage, or do you plan to keep the animal locked up all the time?"

"Let that be my concern," Junmyeon says, pointing to a bundle of blankets. His reply is amused but sharp as a razor blade, the same conceited distance colouring his tone as before. "I will stay here and take care of it."

A strained silence falls over the room. Their eyes are locked and Sehun wonders what exactly the lord is looking for, but whatever it is, he seems to have found it, because after an endless amount of time he straightens even further.

"I see."

His eyes never leaves Sehun’s and the gaze from his eyes is more than just intense. It’s intoxicating, devouring, and something far more powerful, something hard and stoic. Something dangerous.

Sehun shifts from one feet to the other. “You have a strange name,” he mumbles.

The lord gives him a questioning look. “No, you do.”

Only a foreigner could say that. Sehun’s name is completely ordinary amongst the townspeople. He scoffs and then notices that his fists are clenched. He quickly thrusts them into his pockets.

"So, just Junmyeon?" he asks. "No last name?"

The lord's eyes narrow a little, each fiber of his body suddenly tense, and though light reflecting from the Hangang is sliding across his face, probably blinding him, he doesn’t blink.

“I don’t really care about my name,” he says and averts his gaze as if Sehun's sight is something unbearable.

Why does he hate me? Sehun thinks. What right does he have to look at me, as if he wants to punch me in face? He huffs out a breath, lungs tight, like he isn’t getting enough oxygen.

"Did the queen dislike your gift?" he mocks and points at the box. His tone is defensive – belligerent – but by all means, he can’t hold it back anymore.

The lord shakes his head in some strange sort of sadistic amusement, and when he speaks his voice is darker than before, deeper, with a certain kind of bite at the edges. “One can’t refuse certain gifts.”

For some reason, Sehun shivers. Something breathes inside of the box, he feels it more than he hears it.

Junmyeon lowers his eyes. "Give me the keys,” he demands.

Sehun demonstratively crosses his arms.

"Please," the lord adds, but that makes it sound even more like a threat. Sehun hesitates for a second but figures he has no choice anyway. If he doesn’t give the key to Junmyeon now, a hunter will ensure that he gets it.

Slowly, he unhooks the key from the ring. The lord reaches out. His hand is sinewy and slim, with a nice shape and his middle and ring finger are the same length. Sehun notices a tattoo on his forearm where the skin is the most sensitive: flames licking over tendons and the fine elevations of Junmyeon’s veins. Sehun wishes, greedily, to run his fingers over the inside of the lord’s wrists and feel his pulse like braille on his fingertips.

“What kind of sign is that?” he asks curiously and bites down on his lower lip a second later, as if to punish himself for his intrusive question.

Junmyeon gives him an angry look and jerks his hand back. “Nothing.” Voice jarring, his exclamation echoes loudly in the vacant room.

Sehun observes the way the lord’s shoulders rise and his breath hitches from the sudden rage that flares up in him; his face brightens up to a delicate red and Sehun finds himself suppressing the urge to wrap his fingers around the lord’s chin and cheeks and push his dainty lips up– Sehun blinks. What the hell is he thinking?

"What's wrong with you?" he snaps at the lord, his patience wearing thin. "Is it so hard to answer a simple question?"

Junmyeon lifts his eyebrows and gifts him a mocking smile. "Oh, why so mad? Is it because of what happened to your short-tempered boyfriend?" he asks.

“Minseok is not my boyfriend,” Sehun bites back. “The hunter beat him up after you disappeared. All of that hadn’t happened, had you not insisted that we house your weird animals. Why do you want to have the boxes upstairs? Isn’t here enough room for them?"

Junmyeon shrugs, his eyes flicker to the side. “Yeah, there is but ..."

"Then you rejected the proposal just because of me?"

Junmyeon’s reaction is delayed, seconds pass before he finally, slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

Surprised that the lord would admit that, Sehun finds nothing else to say. He tries to come up with a question that might elicit some answers, but he can’t think of anything. What am I doing here? he wonders. This guy doesn’t want to talk to me. He obviously can’t stand me.

Junmyeon nervously licks lips. His eyes are attentive, and wary. "The key," he demands.

Sehun swallows. The disappointment hits him like a cold gust of wind. What did he expect? He holds out the key and nods, sharp and uneven. "Here you go.”

For a few seconds they stand motionless, five steps apart, then Junmyeon gives in and walks towards him.

Sehun doesn’t know which desire is stronger: to flee head over heels or to walk towards the lord. Their fingers touch as he drops the key into the Junmyeon’s palm, and for a glittering second, they are looking at each other. There's a vibration, a connection. The air between them expands and relaxes. Sehun lets out a shaky breath, disguised as a sigh, and then turns. He’s already through the door and outside when the lord’s voice calls behind him.

"Sehun?"

He stops and turns. The lord doesn’t look at him but instead keeps his gaze fixed on the ground. "Stay away from the fourth floor," he mumbles, slams the door shut and locks it.

Sehun turns around and proceeds along the corridor in a fast pace. His footsteps reverberate, hollow and noisy, from the walls. An uncomfortable chill gnaws at the back of his neck, almost as if something is observing him.

* * *

 

Normally, hotel guests are merely temporary invaders; interesting, friendly or unfriendly figures who come and go without being able to harm Cosmic Railway. Strangers whose presence Sehun is forced to accept because they provide food and money, both two things that he and Minseok need desperately.

That night, however, Sehun senses that something has changed. When he goes into the bathroom of the narrow room on the west side of the Hangang and turns on the tap, the stream of water that hits the sink is clear. As Sehun stares at the clean water, he feels as if he’s perceiving his own hotel with the eyes and senses of a stranger: the many, empty rooms, the decay, the weathered furniture, the constant smell of water and river.

Next door, feathers squeak as Minseok is groaning in pain. Sehun hears him mutter something before falling back into a restless sleep. He walks back to the bed, sits down and looks through the window at the dark night sky, watching how the clouds cross the horizon. Leaning back against the metal bed frame, he closes his eyes.

The queen loves hunting. But who is on her hunting list? Humans, animals…. Mermaids? Could it be that Junmyeon has been summoned by the queen for this reason?

* * *

 

 

 

Sehun dreams of big, black eyes. They are staring at him through a small hole. A thunderclap sounds through the air. Old green shutters with slowly peeling paint fly open and sway on their hinges, slamming against wooden windowsills and long-neglected flower boxes. At Sehun’s feet, a few fallen leaves flutter. A gentle breeze carries them high in the air, blowing them into the distance.

Junmyeon’s fingertips trace the line of Sehun’s cheeks. Slow, gentle, a strange sensation that reminds him of the predator that sleeps inside of him and it fills something in him like swallowing honey. He goes still, heartbeat steady.

“Don’t,” Junmyeon whispers against his cheek but Sehun is already reaching out, his heart restlessly pounding in his chest. When he touches the box, the wooden walls unfold like petals of a giant flower and fall to the side. Water pours out of the box, all over the floor and wets his bare feet.

The monster has wide eyes, pale green and a dangerous glint. It’s red hair is streaked with blood and rainwater, it’s skin pale in the dim halogen light. Blood covers parts of its face and fingers. Like honey - thick and warm. Sehun stares at the monster’s shoulder blades which stick out like spiked angel wings and how the water turns dirty brown from blood underneath him. The monster looks always beautiful, otherworldly, but there’s something particularly gorgeous about the blood and bruises.

"I told you that you should stay away from us," Junmyeon mumbles. He bends down to the thing that is curled up on the floor and turns it around. Black, empty eyes meet Sehun’s. An inhumanly long, pointed tongue is hanging from the creature's mouth and water is coming out of his frontal wound.

With a gasp, Sehun drives up. Still dazed from the dream, he listens to the clacking sound that woke him. Is that really the lift or is the noise part of the dream too? The curtains in front of the broken window are moving in the wind. A look at the moon shows him that he must have slept more than an hour. The murmur and splashing of the Hangang outside is overshadowed by other sounds: flapping noises. A small flock of nocturnal birds passes by the window, but Sehun only catches a glimpse of shadows flitting across the curtains. He takes a deep breath and his heartbeat calms down.

He listens attentively to any noises that come out of the next room and when he hears nothing, he figures Minseok must have fallen asleep. Quietly, he slips out of the bed and walks towards the door. The carpet in the hallway feels soft and cool underneath his bare feet. Doors are lining up in the dark corridor like the teeth of a skull and the sounds of the house– the distant beating of ajar doors– are eerily as usual.

Sehun stops at the top of the stairs and listens to the new, unfamiliar sounds: crackling and rustling in the pipes, which have never been there before. The house is groaning under the weight of many boxes and a strange heartbeat seems to echoing through the rooms. Somewhere above him, animals stir in their cages– and much closer, just a few steps down, Junmyeon is quietly sleeping. If he sleeps that is.

Sehun looks around, his vision unfocused, and tries to make out his surroundings in the dark. Slowly, he begins to walk down the corridor. He knows every dimension, every notch in the stone. The cab of the elevator has stopped on the ground floor, so somebody actually had driven down earlier, even the brass grille is still open. Sehun silently flits along the corridor, prepared to bump into Minseok every minute.

He hesitates shortly before sneaking past the door of the banquet hall. Nothing seems to be moving inside of the room, but the narrow strip of pale light under the door shows that Junmyeon hasn’t closed the curtains, and the moonlight is able to shine into the room.

* * *

 

A few moments later, Sehun is climbing through the kitchen window onto the stone ledge. Below him rushes the pitch-black water of the Hangang– cold and deadly. The moonlight casts a glittering network of reflections on the waves and whirls of the sea. Sehun cautiously shimmies over to the stairs. The windows are slightly higher, and he has to muster all his skill to pull himself up to the sill. He presses his bare foot sideways on the edge of the door, braces his arms up and peeks into the room.

As expected, the box is standing in the middle of the room. There’s a small mountain next to it and it takes Sehun a while to recognize that those are blankets on which Junmyeon probably sleeps. He expects to see the lord there but the blankets are empty.

Sehun’s palms begin to burn, heat runs down his arms and his body aches. He trembles with effort, but draws himself even closer to the window until the glass fogs from his breath. Something is different compared to this afternoon. The box appears to be wider. Or is that only due to the changed perspective?

A movement makes Sehun recoil and he struggles to keep his balance. A Shadow! Very close to the door. A figure– Junmyeon? And yet another movement. Sehun's mouth is completely dry. That's certainly not a bear. Then the door swings open. The thing pauses and turns it’s head to the window. Eyes reflect the moonlight.

Sehun ducks hastily and lurches towards the stairs. He huddles to the top step and freezes. It’s quiet. No static, no wind, just his own breaths clouding his ears. For ten, twenty heartbeats, he remains still, but nothing happens. Then he hears how the door to the banquet hall falls shut.

* * *

 

The guests seem to have brought the rain from the northland with them. The sun has been missing for the last couple of days and a storm is hanging over them like a thick blanket of a long forgotten promise. The high walls of the palace disappear into it as if the building’s roof is dissolving.

"You really think the lord did that?" Chanyeol asks.

"I'm not sure," Sehun replies. "The doors were closed. I assume that Junmyeon took the animal outside– for whatever reason. When I sneaked back in, the banquet hall was quiet and no one seemed to be inside." He anxiously looks around, but no one seems to be paying attention to them.

They are on their way to the market. Chanyeol is carrying a huge leather bag over his shoulder and sweats under its weight. Only a few people pass by them, and the closer they get to the palace wall, more and more windows are locked.

"I don’t know, man.”

Sehun shrugs. "Someone took the elevator last night. Maybe it was Junmyeon, I’m not sure. And Junmyeon..."

"You like his name, right?" Chanyeol asks suddenly, startling Sehun.

"What?"

Chanyeol grins awkwardly.

"Are you crazy?" Sehun shouts, his cheeks reddening. "Can’t you stay serious? This is not a joke! Hunters were in Cosmic Railway yesterday, Minseok was attacked and the lord keeps something dangerous in that box.”

"I didn’t want to joke about it either,” Chanyeol says quietly. “Alright, alright. Yes, you’re right. It’s a serious matter, sorry."

Sehun thinks back to his dream– the captive mermaid– and the shadows in the banquet room. For a while, they just continue to walk side by side in silence. Sehun feels his friend watching him from the side. After the sleepless night, his mood is as gloomy as the sky, and Chanyeol's concern is not very soothing.

"Maybe it's better if you stay with us for a while," Chanyeol says then. "Only until the guests are gone. There’s enough space on the boat anyway."

"You start to sound like Minseok,” Sehun whines. “Stop it. I don’t need someone to protect me.” He wants to add something more, but falls silent as he discovers a group of hunters. The patrol seems to be in a hurry. Chanyeol turns and catches a glance at them before they turn down an alley and disappear out of sight.

"Recently, they are controlling every dock in the harbor," he mumbles.

"It’s because of the mermaids,” Sehun deadpans.

Chanyeol gives him an unfathomable look. He doesn’t seem to be kidding anymore. "I knew it! You just want to go to the market because of that, right?”

Sehun shrugs. "I'm looking for Kyungsoo." His words are flat and cold, almost guarded.

"Kyungsoo? The lunatic?” Chanyeol gives him a dubious look, one Sehun flatly meets.

"He may be crazy, but he knows everyone in this city ... and their secrets,” Sehun says. “He must know something about mermaids.”

Chanyeol shakes his head. "Kyungsoo doesn’t even know what the word mermaid means. His memory is like a tattered fishing net: nothing has been caught in it for years,” he argues.

Sehun stops. His emotions tipp with frustration. "Why am I telling you this anyway?" he hisses.

Chanyeol raises his hand but is unable to suppress a smile. "Hey, calm down, hunnie,” he grins at best friend with all his teeth. “I am not your enemy. You know that I’m right about Kyungsoo.”

There’s a retort, or a threat, on the tip of Sehun’s tongue, but Chanyeol is right. Sehun isn’t even sure himself if it’s such a good idea to talk to Kyungsoo. Great! Now he’s not only annoyed at Chanyeol but even aat himself.

"Sorry," he mumbles, hooking his arm through Chanyeol’s. He leans against his best friend as they continue to walk. "I had a really bad night."

“Probably a really bad week." There it is again: Chanyeol's smile; as warm and bright as the sun, and Sehun’s mouth twitches upwards, a breath puffing out through his nose.

“If you want I can accompany you,” Chanyeol says. “I just need to finish my business at the market first. Who knows, maybe a miracle happens and he will tell you something interesting."

Sehun lifts his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s and finds amusement in them and maybe a hint of concern underneath. He hesitates and chews his lip for a couple of moments. Eventually, he shakes his head. He would really like to accept Chanyeol's offer but it’s better this way.

"It's alright. Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, promise!”

Chanyeol's face is like a cloudy sky– it betrays any emotion and Sehun feels sorry when disappointment is reflected on it. “Alright, just be careful,” Chanyeol mutters.

* * *

 

When they arrive at the block-shaped building where river people pay tribute to the queen, right next to the south gate of the palace, Chanyeol mumbles good-bye and gives him a warm smile. Sehun ignores the wave of guilt and the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and turns.

The market is almost empty. The queen has raised the tribute requirements last month. Some traders have so few goods that they offer them on towels. Starved street dogs are roaming around nearby, always hoping for a trader to be distracted so they can steal a piece of bacon or dried fish.

Normally, Kyungsoo is sitting here somewhere on a stained blanket until a guard chases him away. Still, he has never been arrested or beaten up. In a strange way, the boy has even more freedom than the dogs. Sehun searches every niche and every corner, but can’t find the ragged little figure anywhere. Instead, he notices another man: Yixing from the black market. His long, dark hair is combined into a braid. With hunched shoulders, he hurriedly crosses the square.

"Hey, Yixing!" Sehun calls out. "Did you see Kyungsoo?"

Yixing flinches and turns around. "Oh, it's you," he says with relief as he recognizes him. "Don’t you have something better to do than to look for the little boy?"

Sehun rolls his eyes. "Did you see him or not?"

Yixing’s gaze grows distant for a beat, then refocuses on him. "Find him yourself," he gruffs. "He’s probably where the crowd is." He points his finger over his shoulder.

An uneasy feeling spreads in Sehun's stomach. "What’s going on?" he asks. "Are the patrols on the move?"

"You can bet on that. As of today, there’s war.” When he sees Sehun's blank look, he lowers his voice. "They found a corpse– behind the palace, in the backyard. And it wasn’t an accident, I promise you. This time the queen is going to roll heads.”

* * *

 

Sehun doesn’t have to look far. Curious bystanders are gathering at the road that leads to the small fountain plaza behind the palace. Sehun carefully approaches the crowd. It can be dangerous to be part of such a group, but today it seems to be safe. The people, including some well-dressed officials and many servants, are deadly quiet.

Sehun approaches them and looks around anxiously, expecting to spot a mermaid every moment– hidden in a niche or archway. But the only unusual thing he can discover is a crow, sitting on a gutter and cleaning himself. It’s plumage is stained in red. Blood?

"Have they already taken care of the corpse yet?" Sehun whispers to a woman standing nearby.

"Just now," she whispers back. "They had to pull him out of the well. The body was missing his head."

Sehun shudders. "Do they know who he is? Another guard?"

The market woman shrugs helplessly and cranes her neck. Sehun wants to push forward, but the people in front of him stumble back and step on his feet. Before he knows it, the stream of people drives him backwards.

"Can you see something?" One man whispers to another. The second shakes his head. Sehun looks around and discovers a fairly sturdy tube that leads from the gutter to the floor. He sets his foot on the metal and pulls himself up so that he can catch a glimpse of the well. The sight almost turns his stomach upside down.

The white column of the fountain is covered in red streaks, and the water is a single red lake. Hunters have formed a ring around the well and are telling the bystanders to leave. Behind them– where the corpse is probably being put away– Sehun catches a glance of dark, dried blood. Shocked, he jumps back to the ground.

"Back off!" he hears one of the hunters scream. "Hurry and get lost!"

Dogs bark. A hectic pushing and shoving begins as the crowd moves. Sehun has seen enough anyway. He turns around and tries to leave but his shin bumps into something hard. A small hand grasps for the stick Sehun has almost stumbled over. Rags brush along his elbow– Sehun reaches out, gets a hold of two birdlike shoulders and keeps a small boy from falling over.

"Kyungsoo!” he calls out. “I was looking for you."

The boy raises his head and laughs. "Death is what you're looking for, lad," he croaks.

Sehun puts his arm around the boy, shoves through the crowded area and ignores the swear words that are being thrown at him and manages to bring Kyungsoo to the side of the road, where it’s quieter. The boy trembles slightly, and leans heavily on his stick. He’s colorless as ash, his eyes a yellowish pebbles.

Suddenly he begins to grin like a skull. "Bread?" he asks, extending a shaking hand. He probably has already forgotten what happened at the fountain plaza. Sehun leans down and digs out some bread he took from the kitchen earlier this morning. The boy snaps it out of his hand and makes it disappear in his rags.

Sehun leans down even lower. "Mermaids," he whispers. "Do you know anything about them?"

The boy freezes and his mouth opens wide in astonishment. He lifts his head slowly and locks his bleary gaze with Sehun’s. There’s something in his face that Sehun can’t read, but it chills his veins nonetheless.

"You always know everything," Sehun whispers."Try to remember, Kyungsoo."

The scrawny hand is so fast that he can’t react. With astonishing strength, the boy presses his hand on Sehun's lips. His skin smells of dust and rancid leather.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "Never say that word again. Never, do you understand?” he orders, his face pale and clammy, a perfect imitation of terror. “The skulls guard themselves. Their palace is made of marble, bells are calling for battle." Although he speaks nonsense, he seems focused and clear minded. "The first lord is dead. The birds are drinking his blood."

Sehun gasps. "The dead man was a lord?"

"One of them has lost his head," Kyungsoo giggles and nods violently. "They all die, right?"

Sehun's mouth is completely dry. "Was it a mermaid?"

"They're coming back," Kyungsoo mutters. "Old murderers, new blood."

Sehun’s heart stops. "What does that mean?” he asks. “Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo, are you listening?"

The boy covers his ears and hums a fast tune. Sehun wants to grab him by the wrists and pull his hands off his ears but someone bumps into him from behind. He loses his balance and moves aside. Before he knows it, he is trapped in a stream of people. People around him stumble and flee into alleyways.

Sehun curses. For a moment he has been inattentive and hasn’t recognized the danger of the situation, but now he realizes his mistake. It looks like people are getting arrested. He sees a woman defending herself with all her might, but a guard turns her arm roughly on her back. A chain of hunters is cutting off the alleyway and is beating people down.

Quickly, Sehun flees from the main street to the side, running closely pressed against the wall, ducking as far as possible to ensure he’s out of the hunters' field of vision. He waits until the human chain opens at one point and uses the gap to flee.

* * *

 

 

Sehun runs past the Tribute House, noticing that the news of the murdered lord have not yet spread here. Like every day, traders wait for approval to sell their goods. He comes to a halt, panting, and stands on his tiptoes to see through the barred window. Long tables are set up on the walls; on some of them are empty scales and weights which are waiting for goods.

Luckily, Chanyeol is still there.

The officer, a giant in a leather apron, is examining the fish that Chanyeol has taken out of the bag and placed on the table. Round white patches shimmer on the dark blue fish skin like pearl jewelry.

"Not bad,” he grows, taking out his knife and separating the fish into two unequal parts. He throws the larger piece into a basket, and pushes the smaller piece– the head and 5 inches of the fish body– towards Chanyeol.

"So little? That’s almost nothing but the head!” the latter complains.

The officer looks at him indifferently and wipes the knife on a blood-soaked cloth. "Nine-tenths for the queen. That's the law."

"But I even paid more tribute in copper than the law dictates!"

The official snorts contemptuously. "The queen is the law. If you want to complain, you are welcome to discuss this behind bars. Be glad that scum like you still has permission to fish!"

Sehun notices how Chanyeol clenches his hands into fists. He runs to the front door, but two traders who are leaving the office with a handcart are blocking his way. Half a minute later, Chanyeol emerges from the door, the pitiful remnant of the fish and the wooden tribute mark in his hand. As soon as he is out the door, he curses with all his heart. Then he discovers Sehun and falls silent.

Sehun grabs for Chanyeol’s arm and whispers, “"A lord was murdered!"

Chanyeol eyes turn big. "Where?” There’s nothing but concern on his face, his eyes wide and his mouth parted. Sehun can see the moment concern shifts into fear and quickly shakes his head. "I'll explain it later. They’re arresting people. Come on, let’s get out of here!”

Chanyeol asks no further questions, and takes Sehun’s outstretched hand. Together, they cross the market, instinctively striving to go fast, but not so fast that it causes suspicion.

It's like a glimpse into the past: Sehun sees himself and Chanyeol years ago. Two teenagers walking hand in hand to the harbor. Even then, it had been dangerous to get in the way of hunters and guards, but they had felt invincible and immortal. Now, all Sehun can feel is the strange, yet familiar touch of Chanyeol's warm skin.

* * *

 

 

The Lord’s assassination are followed by two anxious days of waiting. Although the sun is shining, there’s a cold breeze blowing through the streets. Guards are standing at the bridges, and the harbor and many other places are closed. No lord is driving through the city and the fishermen anchor in the river instead of staying at the moorings. At least this comforts Sehun: Chanyeol is safe.

"The calm before the storm," calls Minseok the strange mood. He looks worn out and has gotten many dark circles under the eyes and his left hand is wrapped in a thick bandage since he slipped and hurt himself with his kitchen knife.

Whenever Sehun looks out of the windows of his favourite room, he can see hunters patrolling in the deserted city. But no barrier is impermeable enough for rumors. The lord has been murdered in his bed, people say. His head has been placed in the palace courtyard– as a warning for the queen. According to others, the lord was walking alone through the streets at night when he was killed. Four mermaids were found and shot, some say. And others whisper that the lords are out to kill each other.

"It wouldn’t be the first time," Sehun speculates. "Maybe he even lost his head on behalf of the queen."

"I just hope there are no executions," Minseok keeps repeating like an incantation.

The water is gurgling in the pipes on the fourth floor, but Junmyeon is rarely seen during the day. The elevator only moves in the middle of the night or early in the morning. Sehun walks into him in the hallway only once– pristine, white oxford, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the top button open, which revealed the slightest hint of a slender neck; dark jeans, perfectly coiffed hair, his build tall and lean, but the man looks so overworked and downcast that Sehun immediately doubts his suspicions. Why should a guest of the queen have anything to do with the murder of a lord?

That night, Sehun climbs out of the kitchen window again and tries to look into the banquet room, but to his astonishment he realizes that Junmyeon has not only shut the shutters tight, but has also closed the curtains.

* * *

 

 

It’s still dark when Sehun wakes up in the morning. His window is halfway open and the hoarse barking of a dog sounds so close that Sehun joits up, startled. The barking stops, but there is no order, no boot steps, no knock on the door. Eventually, Sehun gets out of bed and sneaks into one of the empty rooms at the back of the hotel, which offers good look onto the street.

In the morning mist, barely visible in front of the dark wall, stands a group of hunters. They look as if they are waiting for something. When Sehun peers to his right, he sees light coming from the kitchen. Instances later, he finds out it’s Minseok who has just been in the basement.

The fishy smell of the crabs is mixing with the aroma of ripe pears which are stored in the kitchen. On the stove, water is bubbling in a pot. Minseok is holding a knife in his uninjured hand– he can never bring himself to throw the crayfish into the boiling water while they’re still alive.

Sehun’s breath comes sharp and quick. "Outside are hunters!"

"I know," Minseok replies, a grimace etching onto his face. "No reason to worry. They are just an escort."

"For Junmyeon?"

Minseok nods.

Sehun turns a little bit pale as he looks at Minseok and asks, "Have you talked to him? Does it have anything to do with the murdered lords?"

Minseok gives him a tiny, warning wink. Startled, Sehun spins around. Junmyeon is leaning against the door, holding a peach in his right hand. Piercing eyes. Keen wit and charm, superfluous pretending to be someone he's not on the surface. No emotions displayed. No bricks to build upon.

He’s wearing black, tight-fitting clothes, as it is fashionable among nobles. The dark stand-up collar makes his hair look brighter. His casual gesture, the momentum in his posture- everything looked like a painting.

"We were called to the palace," he explains quietly and bites into the peach. His tone of voice is untroubled, but his disapproval is clearly noticeable. Hot, Sehun thinks, before hurriedly wiping it out of his brain.

Minseok takes the first five crabs and throws them into the boiling water. It hisses as air escapes from the tanks. "Let it go, Sehun," he sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "The affairs of our guests are none of our business."

It's scary how friendly he smiles at Junmyeon as he kills the rest of the crabs with a quick stab behind the head.

"Amazing to hear such a thing from the mouth of a man from the city," the lord replies. There is no humour in his tone. He smiles, knife-sharp. "After all, you seem to enjoy nothing more than to spy on other people and gossip."

Sehun's furious look seems to amuse him, his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.

"You have chosen a bad time for your visit," Minseok snaps. "Whether with or without an escort– it's pretty risky to be in town right now."

A clear, sharp-edged laugh leaves the lord's lips. "No time is right. Every country has its wars." He sounds less arrogant now.

A beat passes.

Two.

Three.

"Has the house always been a hotel?"

Junmyeon's reaction bears a strange resemblance to Minseok's thinking: Ignore the danger, and focus on the everyday business. Sehun doesn’t want to admit it, but it makes the lord likable.

"As far as I know, the hotel was the house of a nobleman," Minseok replies. "But I’m not sure, I've only been living here for a few years."

"For real? Where did you live before?” Junmyeon asks curiously.

Minseok gives him a flat look. "Ask Sehun if you want to know anything about the hotel, he knows more than I do."

Sehun hesitates. Well, at least it’s chance to talk to the man.

"There are many stories about the hotel,” he says. “My favourite says that a man built the house for his lover. He met her on a journey far beyond the forests, in a land where people lived in the open air, without houses or cities. But what he didn’t know was that she was a fairy, and therefore forbidden to touch a human being. But she loved him so much that she left her family and followed him. For many months, they moved from one place to another. Eventually, he took them to his city. She hated living between the same, narrow walls and became restless and depressed. He built her the Cosmic Railway, so they could sleep in a different room every night– as if they were traveling."

Minseok tugs nervously at the bandage on his hand.

"One day her family found them and killed him," Sehun continues. "His lover missed him so much that she dissolved and became a river of tears.” He pauses. There’s a moment where the silence stretches out, thick and clinging to them. Then, he continues, “The lover's name was Han. The Hangang River is reminiscent of their love and pain. "

Minseok's smile is completely gone now. "A fairy tale," he mutters harshly. "I'll tell you what really happened: when the guy had enough of his fiancé, he threw her out and got himself a new lover.” With these words he takes the empty fish trap and rushes out of the kitchen. Sehun considers whether to follow Minseok or not, but the door slams shut.

The lord looks uncomfortable for a moment. He dwells on his response a tad too long to shrug it off. "I hope it wasn’t the dead lord who broke your friends heart," he notes dryly. He strokes his index finger over his throat. "Well, at least then this mystery would be solved."

He looks out of the window, watching the dark clouds. Sehun follows his eyes. The soft drum of rain accentuated the lightning that flashes brightly through the dark evening sky; it throws white shades in time with the lightning on half of his face. As a boy, Sehun had loved storms like this one. It had been a reminder that even the sky could mourn. Why doesn't he look at me? he suddenly finds himself thinking. Against his will, he sees himself in the man's eyes: the messy, blond hair, the shadows under his eyes. Next to Junmyeon he had to look like a thistle next to a flower.

"How do you guys know each other?” Junmyeon asks suddenly and bites into the peach. He grins mockingly. “Are you close to him?”

"Is this going to be an interrogation?"

“Maybe." The lord’s lips twitch. Almost a smile.

"Then I suggest you a trade. Answer against answer.”

Junmyeon stops chewing for a moment, then swallows, throws the pear into the bucket, and crosses his arms. The curve of his eyebrows reflects curiosity.

"Alright.” His grin is razor sharp. His eyes are spellbound on Sehun's face. As though he’s testing him. Waiting for a certain kind of reaction.

Sehun decides to start with less intricate questions. "What do the black flames on your forearm mean?"

Junmyeon takes his time to answer, but then shrugs his shoulders indifferently. "The sign of the Nordland. There's a time of year in which the sun doesn’t rise. "

“So you live in the dark?”

Junmyeon shakes his head. “That makes two questions!"

"Fine. The answer to your question: I know Minseok since I’m a child. He’s kind of like my dad, if you will. We bought the Cosmic Railway one year after the great winter war and since then we are family."

Junmyeon’s casual attitude disappears and he imperceptibly tenses. "We live in the dark while the sun is sleeping," he answers. "That’s four months according to your time. Everything but hunting is no problem. You need to be able to read every shadow in the forest.”

Mountains. In the forest. The hunting. Sehun knows that there are cities in the Nordland, but the idea of someone living outside fascinates him much more. Especially if it's true what you hear about the nordic mountains: there are people with wolf heads there, and big cats that can imitate human voices to attract their prey.

"What happened in the winter war?" Junmyeon wants to know.

"The queen conquered the city," Sehun replies. "She killed the lords and the previous rulers and let most of the servants and most of the inhabitants drown."

"Seems like she doesn’t like prisoners." It was something between a question and a remark.

Sehun swallows. "Not exactly." His gaze becomes unfocused. "The kept the children alive, but everyone who served the previous rulers was murdered. There are only a few who have experienced the beginning of her reign. The elders living in the city today all moved here with the lords and the artisans who built the new city."

Junmyeon gives Sehun a long look that unsettles his bones. "But Minseok survived.”

The memory is pressing on the surface. Minseok's neck, to which Sehun clung while torches were burning around them.

Sehun takes a breath of air. "He managed to hide long enough."

"He was lucky."

The irony in Junmyeon's voice annoys Sehun. He reaches out and points to his badge. "Do you see that? We are citizens of the city. Even Minseok carries the sign of the Queen."

"A sign can also be a reward. The question is what for."

Sehun grits his teeth. "You distrust everyone, right?"

Junmyeon’s face is shutting down even further. "Rule of the forest," he replies coldly. "Trust is just another word for knowledge. Who ruled before the queen?”

"Lords. They came from the islands.”

"So, you have always been slaves of foreign rulers?"

Sehun’s heart stutters hard enough to make him flinch. "What do you know about slavery?" he hisses. "Don’t you have laws and restrictions too?"

Junmyeon shrugs. "In the forest you hunt– or you end up as prey."

"That isn’t different in the city," Sehun retorts. "You have to know the rules and sometimes you have to break them. And the rules are constantly changing. "

The lord looks unimpressed. "Why don't you go away and seek a place without masters?"

Does Junmyeon know he hit the sore spot? These are Sehun's forbidden thoughts. It’s disturbing to hear them out of the mouth of a stranger.

_I can’t leave Minseok alone. Something keeps him here, something I can’t comprehend._

"It's our city," Sehun snaps. He can’t help but feel strangely tested. It’s tantalising. "My home.” He hopes it sounds convincing.

The lord’s lips stretch into a small grin that make his face look younger and mischievous around the little laughter lines that draw on the corner of his lips. "You like to pay tribute just for living in your own city?" he aks. "These are laws that I can’t understand."

"You're ridiculous." The blue of Sehun's eyes are almost completely on fire. Rage colors his cheeks in a particular shade of raspberry red.

The lord stares at him, unimpressed. His eyes narrow. "Where are your parents?”

"I won’t answer that question," Sehun interrupts him harshly. His grip on control thins out. His tone is cold like a winter's dawn. "It's your turn with the answers. Why are you going to the palace today? Does it have anything to do with mermaids?”

For a split second Junmyeon’s face goes completely blank. He arches a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

"Isn’t that a mermaid in your box?" The question just slips out of his mouth.

Junmyeon laughs out loud. "A mermaid?" he exclaims, shaking his head. "What kind of nonsense!”

The reaction is so honest and immediate that Sehun believes him. It's like he's not wearing his usual mask. For a second, the connection between them is back. Even Junmyeon seems to feel it, because he suddenly becomes serious again, as if he himself is surprised by his reaction. The simmering of the crabs, which have now taken on a fire-red color in the heat, is the only sound in the overwhelming silence.

"But you are chasing them, aren't you?" Sehun breaks the silence. "You were in the city in the night of the murder with that thing that's in the box."

The lord’s eyes darken further and the balance in the room shifts noticeably for both. Sehun wets his lips once more. Has the air in the room been this stifling before?To his disappointment, Junmyeon lowers his eyes. "One of my friends is able to find everything and everyone," he mumbles. "Therefore, some call him a hunter."

Sehun’s hands twitch. “Are there mermaids in the north?"

Junmyeon nods, barely noticeable.

"And do you fear them as we do?"

A small frown appeared on the lord’s forehead and he asks, through gritted teeth, "What do you want to achieve with this?"

"Nothing. I just don’t know anything about them,” Sehun shrugs. "I'm curious."

"It's not wise to talk about them," Junmyeon says in a husky voice. "They will find you if you look for them. They can hear the echo of your thoughts; they themselves are a reverberation of evil. They will haunt and strangle you in your sleep. They will drink your blood and kill you. "

Sehun pales. Outside echos the knocking and whirring of the elevator. Sehun can hear how the brass grid is being pushed aside. Dog claws are scratching over marble.

"Lord?” It’s a hunter’s voice.

Junmyeon pushes himself away from the wall as if he had been waiting for the opportunity to leave the kitchen.

"Wait," Sehun exclaims, and takes a step towards him. His hand leaps forward to restrain the man's arm.

Junmyeon jerks around and gives Sehun a deadly stare. "Don’t touch me!" he hisses.

Sehun recoils, startled by the man’s violent reflex.

There’s nothing but coldness in Junmyeon’s features as he leans forwards and smiles dryly. "Oh yes, regarding your other question," he whispers in a dangerously soft tone. "I wasn’t near the palace district that night, and certainly not with him. I don’t have a key to his cage." Anger flashes in his eyes. "And before you get stupid thoughts: as long as I'm there, he's calm. But I can’t promise the cage will be enough protection if he senses you're around and he’s alone.”

At that Junmyeon turns and leaves. Sehun continues to stand there a few more seconds, then he rushes to the window and opens it. It’s the earliest of morning, and it’s pitch black outside. Leaning out of the window, Sehun manages to spot the lord. He watches him leave the hotel, a man following close behind him.

The thick fog makes it almost impossible to see much of what’s going on. He recognizes a hunter's coat, blotchy and worn out– but that’s probably just an illusion. As if lured in by Junmyeon's voice, a flock of birds rises and circles over the group of men like one swirling cloud. To Sehun it looks like dark shadows are flapping and squawking above the group.

* * *

 

The city burns an hour later. Sehun knows it as soon as he detects a strange smell in the air– smoke, fire and something else: smouldering human flesh. Shots start ringing through the air and screams follow. The smell of destruction is carried by the east wind, and when Sehun looks out of the window into the direction of the extinct city, he sees roaring flames lighting up the sky and clouds of smoke drifting across the river.

Clawing into the windowsill, he hardly feels his fingers.

"I know," Sehun murmurs, averting his gaze from the slowly rippling waves beneath him. "I'm afraid too."

*

It’s quiet in the hotel. Minseok has closed the shutters in the kitchen, and sits rigid as a statue between Chanyeol and Sehun.

"If they continue like this, the whole city will end up in ruins," he mutters quietly. His quirk flickers on and off, uncertain, unfocused.

"That's the price of a lord's life," Chanyeol spits out.

Sensing their discomfort, Sehun offers a smile, timid, still emerging from the fright he’s just endured.

"We aren’t in danger," Minseok repeats his everlasting incantation once more. "They will spare the hotel."

Sehun would be calmer if his voice wouldn’t sound so angry. He scoffs. Vague enough to not hurt anyone’s feelings. He doesn’t know what worries him more: That the hotel is in danger or that Junmyeon is currently out there fighting only god knows what. Mixed images begin to fight for attention in his mind.

Another explosion causes the panes of glass to vibrate, and a new sound passes through the air, sending shivers down Sehun's spine. It’s a high, hoarse lament that penetrates the walls. No one says it out loud, but everyone thinks the same thing. It’s the monster in the banquet hall who is howling in fear. Now, Sehun is glad that the door to the hall is thick and stable, and has an iron lock.

When someone bangs on the shutters, Minseok jumps up so fast that he bumps his head against the lamp. To their relief it’s neither a hunter or a guard, but instead Dae and the toothless Chul, who are seeking protection from a patrol.

"They arrested people!" Dea mumbles in horror as she clings to the coffee mug which Minseok has put into her trembling hands. "It's not just about the mermaids. They think that humans are behind it as well.”

"Terrorists?" Chanyeol goes pale.

Sehun swallows hard. There have been bloody riots in the past, and Sehun knows that the gallows on the harbor are still useable. And there’s another thought: If humans are behind of all of this, then mermaids aren’t murderers.

"So far, more than twenty people have been arrested," Dae continues. "There will be executions soon, that much I’m sure of. Some rumors say that someone is trying to decoy the mermaids. Intentionally, I mean.."

She looks a bit of a mess - hair tousled in a messy bun, dark circles from the lack of sleep, mouse-grey cardigan rumpled. Sehun watches the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips quiver each time she breathes out.

Old murderers, new blood. Is it possible that Kyungsoo isn’t as dense as he seems?

"What about the river people?" Chanyeol asks. Sehun isn’t looking at his friend’s face, but he can hear how worried he is. "Have the power plants been damaged?"

"You don’t have to worry about that, kid,” Dae says and gives him a warm smile. “The turbines aren’t damaged."

Chanyeol lets out a relieved breath.

"And… what about Kyungsoo?" Sehun asks. "Did you see him somewhere?"

Dae laughs nervously. "The little kid? When the first shot went off, he ran off towards east. Amazing how fast such a bunch of rags can run when it begins to burns underneath his butt."

East. While the others continue to whisper, Sehun looks into his tea cup and thinks of Kyungsoo's skull-like appearance.

The boy knows something, but what exactly? And are there really people out there who try to communicate with the mermaids? The thought is as scary as fascinating. Does Kyungsoo know them?

Skull!

Sehun grins. He knows exactly where to go next.

"Sehun, are you okay?”

Startled, he looks up and notices four pairs of eyes which are staring at him. He hastily puts down the tea cup and forces a weak smile. “Sure. Everything’s alright.” He hasn’t even finished the sentence as another thunderous explosion rips through the air– closer to the hotel than the ones before.

"Nothing’s alright!" Minseok retorts bitterly, bracing his hand against the table as though to rise."They are destroying the whole freaking city!”

Chanyeol sighs and scoots closer. "They’re only chasing the mermaids out of town," he reassures and puts his arm around the man’s shoulders. Minseok trembles at the gentle gesture but allows the touch.

"Nothing will happen to us," Chanyeol says, his head tipped to one side, a considering expression on his face.

Minseok sneers. "Oh yes? How do you want to prevent that?” he bites back.

"We can’t prevent anything, but at least we’re together," Chanyeol replies with a calmness that surprises Sehun. “That's what it's all about. Being together, no matter what."

Minseok nods quietly and Chanyeol pulls him a little closer. The two don’t look at each other, but there’s a new kind of familiarity between them.

The crying and groaning of the animal finally stops. Sehun breathes out, his tense shoulders dropping.

"Once all of this is over, the survivors are going to crawl back to light," Chanyeol says. "This is war. You die or you survive and find a way to continue. We just have to wait and not interfere in the affairs of the Queen or the Lords’.”

Sehun's hand clasps around his cup. That’s the Chanyeol he knows. Something about his resignation anger’s Sehun. "Doesn’t mean it’s a great solution,” he spits out. "Living like this is hell, and you don’t have to pretend it’s okay, Chanyeol."

Dae nods and spits on the freshly cleaned kitchen floor. "Exactly," she mutters. "Well, if it were up to me ...If the riots are really not behind this, then..."

Minseok's fist meets the table. "Don’t you dare to say such words in my hotel!” he thunders. "Are you still in your right mind?"

"It's not your hotel," retorts Sehun calmly, but with a pounding heart.

He has never dared to utter those words before, but here, amid thunder and gunshots, it seems to be the only right thing. "We don’t have any rights whatsoever and you know that as well as I do." It feels as if a burden is finally lifted off his shoulders. "We are not much better than slaves.”

Minseok makes an ugly sound, something between a sob and a cry. All his anguish trembles between his lips. He grasps at Chanyeol's arms and Sehun watches, hurt but unmoving.

"Not Minseok," Dae says. Out of the corner of Sehun’s eyes, he can see the way her arms are crossed and her teeth are clenched. "He knows how to deal with the lords, and the Queen seems to have found a liking in him.”

"That's exactly why black market scum like you can sit here safety with me," Minseok growls. "And if you don’t want to visit the patrols outside, you better shut up."

“Shh,” Chanyeol mumbles. His hand is running circles on Minseok's back.

"Look how scared you are! Who hears us here?" Dae scoffs. "The crayfish in the pots? Admit it, Minseok. You aren’t one of them. You betray them all the time by helping black market scum like us whenever you can."

Sehun kicks Dae under the table against her shin, but she ignores the warning. "If you had the opportunity, you would chase the queen out of town just as much as we would,” she says.

"Shh!" Chul hisses and looks around fearfully. "Are you crazy!"

"Stop," Chanyeol mutters worriedly. "We all know that Minseok is right," he adds. "You should be glad that he opened his door for you."

Dae's face flits with a hint of concern.To Sehun's surprise, Minseok's clenched hands relax into fists.

"We’ll forget everything that was said here," Chanyeol says and smiles reassuringly. Dae breathes out in relief, but remains silent.

Sehun avoids Minseok's scrutinizing look and looks down at the table, focusing on the traces of innumerable cuts. He made a decision: Minseok might hide in Cosmic Railway, with Chanyeol by his side, holding his hand– but Sehun won’t stay down. First, he will find out what’s in the boxes on the fourth floor. Today, the opportunity is better than ever. And tomorrow, perhaps, he will try to find Kyungsoo. If he’s not completely on the wrong track, the kid had given him a very precise indication of where Sehun can find him.


	2. II.

_When the world was young, the lords divided it amongst themselves. Each of them got their equal part of cities with all their bustle and heedless hurtling, and seas and lakes, bays and oceans. For a time, the lords were content to quarrel over individual trees, stones, and streams, giving each other great whacks. Their rivalry soon encompassed whole towns, rivers (which rightly belonged to neither, but neutrality is no defense), provinces, and oceans, until the struggle of it consumed the whole of the world._  
_But when the queen took over all land and made the lords her puppets, she chose all the dark places and the places between, the thresholds, the shadows. She chose sorrow and misfortune as her territory, so that where anyone suffers, there is her country._

The echoing explosions stop towards the early evening, but peace doesn’t return. Minseok had put a bed in the storeroom for Chul and Dae the night before and had made them promise to leave the hotel as soon as the guests returned and luckily for them, neither Junmyeon nor the hunters have come back since.

The third floor is silent, though it feels like a kind of watchful silence, a stillness in the rooms, the curtains pulled close and the distant sound of the _Hangang_ coming from outside. Maybe it’s melodramatic, but nevertheless Sehun can feel it sink down through the center of his stomach, that fluttery feeling of epinephrine releasing itself. This time it’s not restlessness, but fear. It’s dangerous to enter the fourth floor without permission, but it’s now or never and he’s willing to take the risk.

The stairs which are leading into the fourth floor are huge, dark red, and intimidating. There’s a clattering noise coming from above him and a door is slamming shut. Sehun swallows. He’s aware of the rooms on the third floor– the empty bedrooms, the trickle of a pipe in a bathroom, the toothy rows of bookshelves of the library, the flutter of birds in the trees outside.

“Junmyeon,” he mutters, under his breath, and just then a cold thought begins to unfold in the back of his mind. What am I doing? he thinks. Why am I doing this?

 _Is Junmyeon really a lord from the North and what does the Queen want from him?_  
unknown

 _What kind of animals does he have?_  
unknown

 _Is there a mermaid in the big box and if so, how is that related to the Queen?_  
unknown

 _Was Junmyeon responsible for the murder of the lord?_  
unknown

The staircase looks frightening. But if not him who will investigate? Who will care about the poor mermaid? Who will show empathy for it? Who will want to help a monster?

There are aspects to the murdered lord and also to the mermaids—to this whole thing—that feels exaggerated, or embellished, or distorted. Some aspect of the truth seems to be concealed within what Sehun knows, in the manner of those old picture puzzles he used to love as a child, drawings of ordinary landscapes in which simple pictographic figures—five seashells, or eight birds—had been hidden.

Determined to investigate, Sehun takes a few steps upwards. Just before he can peek to the top of the staircase, he hears a warning growl. He freezes. One of the lord's dogs? Disappointed, he bites down on his lower lip. Slowly, and as silently as possible, he withdraws. Once downstairs, he stands there for some time, anxiously waiting for the dog to come down and attack him but nothing happens.

Quietly, he walks down the hallway, takes his keys out of the pocket of his jacket and unlocks his favourite room.

It takes him several breaths to realize that something is completely wrong. Everything’s still in place but a lamp is laying on the ground, and a dark spot has spread beneath it. A strong stench of oil rises to Sehun’s nostrils. There, next to the lamp, lies his diary– fanned and its sides down: a shot bird. Scraps of paper are scattered on the ground as if someone had torn at the sides.

Carefully, he picks it up. His hands are shaking, trembling with fear. When he finds his mother's image– unscathed – he bursts into tears. With relief comes shock. Someone must have been here and it certainly wasn’t Minseok. The realization hits him, ripping away the last bit of hope and safety he has felt: a knife in his back.

His ears are ringing, and his skin feels as if it were lightly shimmering. Anxiety has worked its way inside his body, forward movement, forward movement, forward movement, and he wishes that he could just bury himself underneath a blanket and cry— instead of sitting there, blinking stupidly, with the diary in his lap.

A terrible detective, he thinks. Concentrate.

He wipes away his tears and thinks. Who in the hell would want to read his diary? And how did they manage to break into the locked room? Carefully, he touches the wounded book. Marks.... made by what? Teeth? Sehun takes a closer look at the stain on the floor and notices several marks on the floor close to the window. Rats? Ravens?

He rushes to the window and leans outside. A bloody afterglow inflames the sky with fire, fading away to soft pink. He can’t help but look; the sight like a knife he turns inside himself. Pale dust is blowing in horizontale streams close to the ground, snaking in thin, rippling pathways. All the color around him is washed out by dust and glare, like a photograph with the brightness and contrast turned up too high. Only the sky with its red, yellow and pink shines brightly above.

The city– his city!– in ruins: a fallen warrior. Collapsed bridges and gaping black craters where buildings used to stand– forever destroyed and lost. Pain rises through the ground from the ashes of every point of no return; Sehun hears it sing, low and wordless, rumbling like a thunderstorm over his city.

Something dry sticks to his lip– falkes of ash. He swallows and looks down at the river, noticing his own unhappy reflection looking back. He can imagine being at the bottom of the _Hangang_ —the membrane of the water hovering above him like the surface of a sky, and the rippled shadow of boats, and the figures of mermaids in the diffuse blue-green light, their silhouettes like birds skimming the air. And nothing but water surrounding him– an ever-moving swell; nothing but waves, swiftly forming and instantly dying; nothing but depths; dark, fathomless depths.

Sehun shudders, and adverts his eyes. Directly above him, he can hear shutters clacking; the swirling wind must be blowing them open and close. Sehun slips the photo of his mother into the pocket of his jacket and jumps onto the sill.

He hesitates for a second before carefully hooking his fingers into a gap in the upper windowsill. Carefully, he pulls himself up. A gust of wind ruffles his hair, and he smiles. Entering like this, the dog won’t be able to smell him immediately.

Slowly, he keeps pulling himself up, prepared to let himself fall down quickly should the dog or someone else turn up at the window. He gets hold of the wooden shutter and catches a first glimpse of the ceremonial room and his fingers almost slip.

The room is unrecognizable. Every object, every table and every chair is damaged. Padding wool is spilling out of an armchair. The curtains are torn or are laying on the floor, and cages are piled around the huge four-poster bed that has been pushed into the middle of the room. And there are papers strewn everywhere—some in piles, some crumpled into balls and discarded, some documents taped to the walls in a haphazard collage.

Sehun swings his legs over the windowsill and slides inside. He takes some careful steps and looks around, stunned by the mass of cages and scattered objects on the ground. The papers taped to the walls are mostly maps, Sehun notices—road maps, topography, close-ups of street grids and intricately detailed coastlines—not places recognizable to him.

This is a side of Junmyeon he has never seen before. There’s a sense of feverishness, chaos, panic. In any case, there’s no doubt that all those hours and hours the lord has spent holed up in this room have not been spent idly.

Sehun averts his eyes and noiselessly slides towards the door. First the dog, he thinks. Ignoring the nagging memory of his dream, he picks up a heavy candlestick and weighs it carefully in his hand. This will do.

He peeks into the hallway. The dog is out of sight, presumably still sitting in his place by the stairs. Sehun licks his dry lips several times before letting out a whistle. Making sure the dog has heard him, he knocks the candlestick against the doorstep.

The dog doesn’t bark. He shoots around the corner, fast and quiet. Sehun’s heart misses a beat and he slams the door shot– a mere reflex. Then: a dull sound; the wooden door vibrating as the dog throws himself against it. Sehun twists the key in the lock and takes a few steps back. Then: a smile.

He takes a deep breath and turns around, taking in the sight of the room once more. Everywhere: devastation, rainstains, dust. The wind has blown dry leaves and feathers through the open windows. The sight of destruction hurts Sehun. Why has Junmyeon done that? It could easily be mistaken for the room of a crazy person, he thinks, and a nervous feeling settles in his chest, a smooth, vibrating stone forming just below his breastbone as he steps further into the room.

Once again he musters his courage and approaches one of the cages. He expects to hear a growl or breathing noises– some sign of life –coming out of it but the cage remains deathly quiet.

He knows well enough that he shouldn’t move anything. There’s no way to tell what organizational principal is at work here, though it might not appear as if there is any. He steps attentively, as if it’s a lake covered with new ice, or a crime scene.

It’s okay, he tells himself. _Cosmic Railway_ is his home, and if the lord kept dangerous animals here or worse– _mermaids_ , it’s his right to find out. It’s only fair, Sehun thinks, though he’s also uncomfortably aware of those fairy tales that have scared him when he was a child.

Which is paranoid, Sehun knows. He doesn’t believe that Junmyeon would actually keep dangerous _mermaids_ here– right? He would lie, yes, but Sehun is sure—he’s positive the lord isn’t dangerous. Still, he creeps forward like a trespasser, and he can feel his pulse ticking in his wrist as he lays one soundless foot in front of the other, picking a slow pathway through the clutter.

Carefully, he reaches out and taps the cage with the candlestick. A creaking sound makes him jump back. The door swings open but nothing happens.

Sehun walks around the cage, carefully leaning forward and peaking in and finds– nothing. The cage is empty but its walls and floor are covered in abstract patterns. Sehun takes a step forward and squints– scratch marks. He taps another cage open and another. No doubt: all boxes are empty. Sehun’s next thought isn’t soothing: where are the inhabitants of those cages?

The sound of the elevator startles him. Junmyeon is coming back! The clicking sound is soft and muffled, it’s hard to tell which floor the cabin has already reached. How much time does he have? Twenty seconds?

Sehun runs towards the window, stumbles over the carpet and nearly falls to his feet. Then: a flutter. Very close. He looks up and catches a glimpse of bright blue plumage before a cloud of whistling wings and pointed beaks swirl towards him. With a gasp, Sehun backs away. There are at least twenty birds– a swarm of blue jays!

Instinctively, he jumps aside to avoid the swarm. A beak barely misses his eye and painfully hacks into his temple. He lets out a cry, and blindly hits the air– a weak attempt to shake off the birds. Panicking, he grabs for the candlestick and tries to use it as a weapon but nothing seems to help. A bird’s beak pokes into his lower lip and the sudden, piercing pain feels as if electricity is passing through him. He and his muscles contract painfully.

It isn’t a hallucination. It isn’t anything except blankness, thick, fuzzy black spots that begin to swell over his line of vision. Like mold spreading in a petri dish. Like the film cells of a movie melting. Sehun whirls around and runs into the vague direction of the window. He stumbles over the carpet once more and loses his balance. The candlestick falls from his hand.

Suddenly, fur brushes against his face, a hand grabs for his waist and another pulls his hair. He feels this very distinctly. It’s as if his fingers are brushing the surface of a lake when a hand, a drowning person, has reached out of the water to grasp his wrist.

"Run," a familiar voice hisses. Lips brush his ear.

Sehun obeys and runs, hands in front of his eyes, stumbling and ducking. The dog growls as the door is being pulled open, and then the brass grate of the elevator rattles right in front of him, and moment later he’s being thrown against the smooth wood of the elevator cabin.

Dizzy, he slides down, pulling his knees to his body, his heart vibrating oddly in his chest. His forehead and arms feel numb and there’s the sensation of bugs in his hair and he feels as if his throat is closing up. Calm down, he tells himself. He’s in control of his body, and he refuses to let it panic. He places his hands on his thighs, and lets out an even breath, staring fixedly at the man who has saved him.

It’s the lord. His shirt is torn; the stand-up collar hanging in shreds from his shoulder. His hair is messy and dark from grime. His skin is covered in marks and Sehun can smell the burned flesh. He is whirling his big coat through the air, trying his best to chase away the birds. Sehun pushes himself even further into the corner.

The lord throws the coat towards the swarm and takes advantage of the birds’ confusion and safes himself into the elevator cabin. He closes the grate and almost breaks the elevator button as he punch-presses down on it. Breathing heavily, he turns to Sehun, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing with fury and his face grimed with soot. He grabs Sehun’s collar and pulls him to his feet. Before Sehun can react, fingers are digging painfully into his shoulders, the thumbs dangerously close to his throat.

“Let me go!” Sehun hisses through clenched teeth. He manages to kick the lords knee, but the man doesn’t even flinch. Junmyeon’s eyes stare deeply into his own and for a moment Sehun is sure he can see the real, human presence shining through. He feels a tug inside—a deep, raw instinct that urges him toward the lord. He’s almost close enough to reach out and–

A bell rings. The elevator arrives on the third floor and the movement seems to bring Junmyeon back to reality– from where, Sehun doesn’t know. The lord blinks, and Sehun feels the grip on his neck loosen.

"Are you out of your mind?" Junmyeon asks. He sounds breathless, as if he had run up a huge flight of steps, but his voice rings clearly through the elevator.

Sehun pulls himself out of the grip and brings as much distance between him and Junmyeon as possible. In the narrow cabin, that’s not even an arm's length. Breathing heavily, they stand facing each other. The lord's nostrils flare, and his mouth is a pale, hard line.

Sehun swallows. He can’t seem to find his voice. His throat feels full of stones. Obviously, he should be prepared for this. Why hasn’t he done more preparation? Why hasn’t he dressed up a bit, why hasn’t he memorized a simple explanation, instead of thinking he could extemporize?

Something warm drips onto his cheek and makes Sehun’s realize that he’s bleeding from a wound on his temple. Only then does he realize that the lord is injured as well– the remains of Junmyeon’s sleeve reveal a loosely secured bandage.

"Damn it,” the lord mutters and lets out an abrupt, particularly foul set of curses. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Sehun places his hand to his throat, which feels a bit tight, and his face feels a little numb and tingly.

"Why are you so mad at me?" he presses out.

"Because you're stupid," the lord spits out– and his face reddens in a way that Sehun has not yet seen. "And blind and deaf!"

Sehun’s expression wavers. At first, he hopes that he can play innocent—he widens his eyes, as if he’s preparing to say: What? What are you talking about? And then he realizes that such a tactic is fruitless, and a cool, defiant look crosses his face before, at last, he shrugs.

“Yes, I was stupid.” he mutters. It’s the only thing that he can think of, and—oh, why not? Why not just tell the truth? Why is he still playing a game that has long ago grown stale?

“I was stupid enough to believe that you are a normal guest,” he says. “And even dumber to worry about whether you get hurt today or not. You destroy everything here and put us all at risk. You break into my room, you ... "

In the flickering light of the elevator, Junmyeon’s eyes are glowing honey-red, threat, snow and the cold of a winter's night. He pauses, steadies himself, then gives Sehun a look of deep pride.

"Listen carefully," he says quietly. His eyes rest on Sehun’s face, and his expression flickers as his thoughts settle into place. "I’ll let this slide if you shut your mouth and get out. Now.”

Well. It takes Sehun aback. It’s a peculiar feeling. Hurt pride? Sehun lets out a breath. He pushes his hair back from his face, tucks it behind his ears, combing the sides of his head nervously with his fingers.

“I don’t take orders from you!" he calmly says, keeping his chin high and it’s such a liberation to say it, such a release. "What do you want with these blue jays? Do you use them to kill mermaids?"

“It could actually help if they had no eyes," Junmyeon says, gritting his teeth. His voice has grown lower, and he speaks slowly and rhetorically. "Maybe I should have left you up there with them.”

Sehun looks at Junmyeon uncertainly. Is he joking? There are things about the lord that he still hasn’t figured out—the unpredictable bursts of temper, the oddities of philosophy, the threats which sound made-up.

"Stop threatening me,” he says fiercely, and now his voice is hot with disgust. Controlled contempt. “You don’t scare me. Why do those birds attack people? You can’t tell me that’s normal.”

“Those birds are aggressive, especially when they see an intruder. I trained them. I... talk to them. "

"Well, you obviously forgot to tell them that they shouldn’t try to kill us!” Sehun says. He thinks: It doesn’t sound true. But he doesn’t say that.

"I did warn you, haven’t I? Do you still not get it?”

„Uh-huh,” Sehun says, and tries to read the lord’s expression. Is he kidding? Is he a bit crazy?

“I’m not a criminal,” Junmyeon sighs and looks at him sternly—as if he’s just an impertinent fifteen-year-old. “The people who control this country are the real gangsters. You know that, right? And if you play by their rules, you’re nothing but their slave.”

The lord makes a pause as if to think and it gives Sehun time to calm down. There are times like these when Sehun is aware that his choices could come across as incredibly reckless to an outside observer. But he has to do something, he has to know the truth and fight for what’s right– and Junmyeon is right. The queen, the lords and the whole system is wrong.

The truth is, he‘s actually more like Junmyeon than he’s like Minseok and Chanyeol; that is what no one never realizes. Most people, he thinks, have identities that are so shallow that you can easily manage a hundred of them at once. They follow the Queen’s word blindly, scared to open their mouths. Their existence barely grazes the surface of the world. And then there are the people like the lord who can actually be a single, significant individual. Who can stand up for what they believe in. Who have the guts to say no.

There’s a certain attitude Junmyeon possess. It’s like a strong, vibrating energy– it’s powerful and it’s unexplainable and it’s domineering. You have to start work on such a persona from very early on, Sehun thinks, maybe from childhood. You need a certain precise confidence and focus, and all the abstract elements of luck and circumstance have to arrange themselves around you. Like, for example, becoming a rock star, building a talent and a name for yourself, working your way into the public eye.

Sehun has thought about that a lot, he likes the idea of turning into a well-known, respected performer, but he’s also aware that he’s never going to be quite good enough. He can sense his own limitations, he can intuit the road blocks that are just a ways down the path of that particular ambition, and truthfully, if you know you are going to probably fail, then what’s the point? Why bother? If you can have dozens of lesser lives, doesn’t that add up to one big one? 

“The truth is,” Junmyeon says, after he has gathered himself for a minute or so and when he speaks, Sehun’s thoughts scatter, break up into fragments of memories, the way that the birds separate out of their formation and back into individual birds. “If the queen wants, she can see what the birds are seeing. They are her eyes."

Sehun shudders. Spies. Is there a better way to monitor a city than with birds?

"Does that mean you aren’t killing mermaids?" he asks. It’s the only thing that comes to him clearly, the only one of the thoughts that can be articulated.

Junmyeon looks at him as if he’s out of his mind and there’s a glint of an edge in his eyes, a hint of fury that makes Sehun flinch inwardly.

"Do you think about anything else?" he hisses. "Get out of here before I forget myself and do something I might regret!"

He turns and is just about to open the brass gate when the elevator starts to head for the ground floor. His face changes completely. Fear casts a shadow over his features.

"They’re downstairs!"

The hint of panic in his voice makes Sehun shutter. Who are they? The hunters? How would they react if they find out Sehun has been looking through the lord’s rooms, basically committing a crime against the Queen. He puts his hand to his throat, which continues to have that constricted feeling, that anxiety attack feeling. Then: a thought.

“Help me get up there!” Sehun orders and points to the roof.

Not a second later he feels embraced and pulled up by two strong arms. Although Junmyeon grimaces as he lifts him up, he doesn’t let go. For a moment, in a stolen second between discovery and flight, they remain in that strange embrace.

As the second floor passes by, Sehun reaches up, unlocks the emergency hatch in the roof of the elevator, pulls himself up, and puts his feet on Junmyeon's shoulder. Before he finally disappears, he casts a glance back down. The lord's face floats underneath him– dark, gaunt and drawn with concern.

"We'll talk tomorrow!" Sehun whispers. "I’ll come to your room and..."

The lord violently shakes his head. "Don’t you get it?" he interrupts hotly. "I don’t like you, so stay away from me!"

With these words he reaches up and slams the door in Sehun’s face. Sehun straightens and breathes. The click sounds in his head. He misses the moment when he’s supposed to jump and the brass grill of the first floor almost floats past him.

Quickly, he jumps and clings to the railing. He climbs into the hallway as the cabin continues to go down the shaft. A moment later, he stands on the second floor, dazed, confused and bleeding. Hurt– more by the lord’s words than by his wounds.

 

* * *

 

Nearly a week has passed and still they are hiding in the hotel and Sehun is starting to feel a little anxious, though Minseok has tried to be reassuring—“Nothing to be concerned about,” he said. “Just a few things that have to be sorted out….“

But he hasn’t said anything further than that. Ever since Chul and Dae have left, he has made himself scarce. Hours and hours locked in the downstairs room he calls “the study.” Sehun has actually kneeled in front of the locked door and fit his eye to the keyhole beneath the cut-glass doorknob, and he could see him as if through a pinhole camera, sitting behind the big wooden desk hunched over a book, his face hidden behind.

And naturally it has occurred to him that Minseok is scared. The hunters have been reinforced and the streets are no longer safe, with people getting arrested on a daily basis. And to make matters worse, the turbines at the bottom of the _Hangang_ aren’t working anymore, probably due to torn nets or algae which must have caught in the blades.

The lights in the hotel are flickering and have gone out a few times already and Minseok had to use the emergency winch to move the elevator by hand. Sehun knows what that means: the river folk need to take care of the turbines before the thin blades will bend under the strong current.

“Don’t worry,” Minseok keeps telling him. “Everything is perfectly fine, just a little slower than I thought, a little more—recalcitrant.” But then he lets out one of his gloomy laughs, which aren’t reassuring at all. It sounds so unlike him.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Sehun, when he spaces out, when he strays off into a distant galaxy, in a trance of private calculations.

“Minseok,” Sehun says then, “what are you thinking about? What are you thinking about right now?”

And his eyes regain their focus. “Nothing,” he replies then. “Nothing important.”

Which is probably the truth, Sehun knows, but it sticks with him. Nothing, he thinks, worrying. He has begun to pay closer attention to such things. Perhaps, Sehun thinks, it’s his own fault that he doesn’t know what’s going on. He has been in a dreamworld for too many days now, almost two years’ worth of daydreaming, reading, fantasizing about travel. So focused on the future that he hasn’t been paying attention to Minseok’s struggles.

Every time he watches Junmyeon leave the _Cosmic Railway_ – followed by a swarm of winged spies who drop from roofs and cracks in the walls– Sehun clenches his hands into fists. He imagines Minseok’s expression would he take a look at the devastating condition of the lord’s rooms. Nothing left of the beautiful oriental carpet, gold-leaf wallpaper, heavy wooden furniture, shelves full of books—not junky paperbacks, either, but real hardcover books with thread-bound spines and thick pages and a dense, woody smell.

He himself has moved into the east wing, as far away from the lord’s rooms and the banquet hall as possible. It’s a room on the second floor. It still has sturdy shutters which give birds no chance of getting into the room. The diary and his other treasures from his room are safely hidden underneath the bed, a black monster of weathered ebony.

But even in that octagon-shaped room with a single window, which looks out away from the lake, he finds it hard to sleep at night. And so— he can’t help it, he lays there every night, staring up at the swimmy darkness that his brain can’t quite process and thinks of blue birds. The door closed, the window shutters drawn– no moonlight or stars.

Suggestions of shapes float across the surface of the dark like protozoa seen through a microscope, but there isn’t too much for the optic mechanisms to actually hold on to. But still– every night he can see it: yellow eye-rings and black pupils, taunting him. The blue jay knows something, and Sehun wants to know what.

He went to the local library and read everything about blue jays he could find, mapped every blue jay nest in his area and put them down in charts, made maps of their flight path, and took ladders and looked into their nests. But still, he failed utterly to work out their secret. They keep haunting him, circling on a piece of thread above his head when he goes to sleep at night.

The lord avoids him at every opportunity. The problem wasn’t even Sehun’s hurt pride and how insulting Junmyeon’s behaviour is, but that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. The more angry he’s at the lord, the more often he wakes up at night with his heart pounding because he imagined hearing his laugh.

Once, when he had dared to sneak out and pay the Great Bridge a visit, he had spotted Junmyeon across the river. The lord had stood on the edge of the dead city, contemplating the walls and the streets thoughtfully. As he had walked back across the bridge, his steps had been cautious. Like a wild animal feeling insecure in the city, Sehun had thought.

Strangely enough, Sehun had been fascinated despite his dislike for the man. He had looked alien in an appealing way. The dull pounding in Sehun’s chest had felt like sorrow or longing. Junmyeon had stopped in the middle of the bridge and had looked directly at him. He couldn’t have possibly seen him, with the sun shining directly into his eyes, and Sehun being half hidden by shadows, but he’s sure the lord had been aware of him.

"What's wrong with you two?" Minseok asks one morning after Sehun and the lord have passed by each other at the hallway, glancing silently at one another.

Actually—briefly—Sehun doesn’t recognize him, it’s as if there’s an unfamiliar man standing there and he almost lets out a gasp. And then he looks into his eyes, his green eyes, and the face has reconstituted itself: Minseok.

"I could ask you and Chanyeol the same thing," Sehun retorts, slamming the kitchen door shut.

Minseok laughs. "With us?" He asks. "Nothing."

"Sure thing. You’re constantly talking to each other, you gave him the keys to the basement and always take his side. That's right, that sounds like nothing. "

"Am I not allowed to talk to him?" Minseok asks and grins, pleased with himself, as if he pulled off a good practical joke. Which, Sehun guesses, he has—and so he tries out a sheepish smile, though he actually feels vaguely angry.

The scent of mint and sage tea rises to his nostrils as Minseok begins to crush the herbs. Sehun notices that he’s using his left hand.

"No, it's not forbidden," he mumbles. "But I just don’t understand it. You hardly talked to him a few weeks ago and now... "

"Maybe it's Chanyeol who you should ask," Minseok says. This is crazy, Sehun thinks. Why would Chanyeol want to talk to Minseok and not him, Sehun, his best friend?

Their eyes meet, and though he doesn’t know what Minseok’s lingering look means to convey, there’s this expectation in it, and he feels as if he has been given a warning.

Sehun wipes his damp palms on his legs, then combs his fingers through his hair. "And what's the saying that you're a spy for the Queen?"

Minseok pauses and looks up from his herbs. "Are you worried about that?" he asks in astonishment. "Sehun, does that mean you believe rumors like that? You think I lie to you? Me?”

Minseok laughs, and Sehun laughs a little, too, though he isn’t exactly sure what is funny.

"I didn’t say that," he says carefully. “I was just wondering… if there’s any truth to those claims.”

Minseok’s eyes narrow. "Some would ask themselves that, true. But you certainly wouldn’t.” He pauses, long enough so they could both note how illogical Sehun is.

“All the world is a stage, but who's watching, when do we stop acting, and on what strings are we hoisted up for all to gawk, all to marvel, all to take?” he asks, and reaches over and brushes Sehun’s forearm, as if there’s a crumb or a speck of dust.

“All I do is for us– for our safety. To protect you.”

Sehun looks down to where Minseok has lightly pressed the pads of his fingertips against the back of his hand, just below his wrist.

“Protect me? How?”

A moment later, Sehun winces as Minseok swiftly reaches for the knife and throws it across the room. It speeds through the air and hits one of the sacks of flour– right in the middle. Sehun’s mouth drops wide open.

"If you spent two years on the streets of this city, with all the good-for-nothings, then you learn how to fight with your bare hands, believe me!"

"Sorry," Sehun says softly and looks down with an abashed, rueful smile. He has underestimated Minseok. Underneath all of that is still a fighter. The man who has saved his life. "The hunters, the lord..."

“I know,” Minseok sighs and goes back to cutting the herbs. “It can drive you mad. But Sehun, try to relax a little, will you? You act like the lord is some kind of supervillain.”

He lets out a small chuckle, to show Sehun how silly it sounds. But the blonde merely raises one eyebrow, expectantly. “Don’t talk to me like this. I’m not a kid anymore. I know how serious the situation is.”

Minseok bites his lower lip and nods. Flustered. “I understand. I didn’t mean to—belittle—you.”

Well. This is unexpected. Sehun can’t help but feel a tiny bit pleased with himself. A bit—uplifted.

“Regarding Chanyeol,” he says, looking down at this hands. “Be honest with me. What’s going on?”

Minseok tilts his head, and once he meets Sehun’s gaze, he doesn’t break eye contact. “It's one thing to express, then explain: how am I feeling, what am I doing, why to both of those things. It's another when everything is chaos, and there is no order. I’m not sure if you’re able to understand it, but with him I feel like he's ... like me."

Sehun understands, he understands it very well. He sees it everytime he looks at his best friend– grief. Grief happens upon you, it’s bigger than you. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, Grief has a lot in common with Love. And when it does come, it unweaves the very fabric of our being. If there are two people who are alike, it’s Minseok and Chanyeol.

"I think I do know what you mean," Sehun mumbles. 

For a moment they are both quiet, Minseok cutting the herbs and Sehun starring outside the window, thinking. 

"How old is he now?" Minseok asks then.

Sehun frowns. "Nineteen. Why do you ask?"

"He has old eyes. He carries a lot on his shoulders. I hope that he will be able to overcome it one day."

Sehun feels his discomfort dissipate and give way to a sense of warmth.

"Minseok," he says. "Have you been in love before?”

"I was.. once.” Minseok looks at him— yes, beauty, flying through the room, shines there for a second. His eyes seem to question, to commiserate, to be, for a second, love itself. “I loved his laugh ... and his kisses. But most of all, I think, I loved that he was so foreign, so different. That every second with him ran through my fingers like sand, that nothing was fixed and certain.”

Long forgotten words run through Sehun’s mind. _You always want what you cannot have._ Maybe Chanyeol had been right about that.

"Well, as you can imagine, it wasn’t worth it," Minseok concludes. "Love only brings pain. Why do you ask anyway? Do you have problems with Chanyeol?”

Sehun just shakes his head and pulls the headband in place. It hides the small wound on his temple but not the nagging feeling that his home has been desecrated and destroyed.

"I'm going to the river folk," he says, standing up slowly. "Don’t wait for me, maybe I'll sleep on the ferry.”

"Don’t go through the city," Minseok warns him. "Stay close to the river.”

Outside, Sehun heads into the direction of the harbor but stops after a few steps. He pulls out a large scarf and ties it around his head so that his hair is hidden underneath. He then turns his jacket inside out. If the blue jays were to spot him on the street, they may not be able to recognize him.

 

* * *

 

Years ago, one could find majestic tombstones of former rulers and wealthy lords near the eastern gate of the city, but all that is left of the graveyard is a small hill: a rubbish dump. Somewhere beyond the wall, which casts a long shadow in the late afternoon light, Sehun can hear cicadas chirping. Someone has thrown old fish on the ground for stray cats. The strong smell makes him grimace. What a great place to meet, he thinks and pulls piece of cloth over his nose and mouth.

"Kyungsoo?" he calls for the boy.

The cicadas stop chirping, but nobody answers. Sehun walks around, always on the lookout for possible hiding places, but no sign of Kyungsoo.

"The skulls guard themselves," Sehun mutters to himself. "Marble is their palace, bells call for battle."

Marble, then. If he’s right, he might find a clue on one of the graves. Between tendrils and scrub he spotts a piece of a weathered inscription

_. ... in life ... alone, in death …_

Sehun squints. Leans closer. How many tombstones will he have to check? Thirty, fifty? He casts a look at the sky. No birds. He takes out a short knife and starts chopping up thorns and scrub. The sun is burning down on his cheeks and forehead, and the wind produces strange, plaintive sounds that make him shudder. Thorns scratch his legs, but he doesn’t give up.

Sometimes Sehun imagines that he meets people from his past. Ever since the war, this has become a regular occurrence, these minor hallucinations, tricks of perception. Here, for example, is his mother, her back to him, opening an umbrella as she hurries forward. Here is his father, not far from his mother, standing in front of him and for a second Sehun could have sworn that it truly is him.

“Every little thing is gonna be all right,” he is singing, and Sehun is aware of motion passing over him, a shadow of a bird or a cloud. This is what it would be like to see a ghost, he thinks. A distant whistle makes him flinch. He glances at the east gate. A group of people is standing there; he can’t tell if they are just city dwellers or guards or worse– hunters. Just above their heads: a flock of birds.

Sehun curses quietly. Even if people are far away, it’s already too late to run away. The blue jays must be Junmyeon’s spies and will detect him even if he tries to hide behind a tombstone. So he crouches down and crawls towards a bush. Thorns tear at his jacket and stones dug into his knees and hands. Then he hears the flapping of wings.

For a few breathless moments, he remains silent and doesn’t move. When no other sounds follow, he tries to move and his hands find something cold and smooth on the ground– white marble. His fingers glide over the stone and clean moss off the gravestone.

In the dark of the glistening sky– a dim, dull, yellowy light, as if the world were a basement room lit by a bare forty-watt bulb– between leaves and branches, Sehun can barely see his own two hands. He leans closer and squints into the darkness.

Then he flinches: voices nearby, loud footsteps chase mice and cats out of their hiding places. Something grabs for Sehun’s wrist and jerks him forward. He falls, straight forward into the yawning blankness. A door silently closes behind him and Sehun finds himself kneeling on wet gravel and feels the coldness of a blade at his throat.

"What are you doing here?" a hoarse voice asks.

"Kyungsoo..." Sehun croaks. "Put the knife away!"

"The password," Kyungsoo mumbles. There are moths circling and bumping groggily against the surface of the ceiling, and there’s a revolving shadow-lantern effect above the boy’s head.

Sehun grabs the boy’s wrist and bends it so that the knife points away from his neck. The weapon falls on the stony ground.

"Murderer!" Kyungsoo yells.

Sehun spins around, but the darkness makes it hard to aim. His palm lands on Kyungsoo's nose with full force. The boy shrieks. Before he can take a deep breath and scream once more, Sehun pressed his hand on his mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you,” he explains. “There's a patrol outside. Shut up or they will hear you."

Kyungsoo immediately calms.

They sit in silence for a while, but no one comes looking for them. Sehun eventually takes his hand from Kyungsoo's mouth.

"Password?"

“What?”

“Password.”

Sehun rolls his eyes. He’s surprised at how useless his mind is. He has always imagined that in some desperate situation, his brain would sharpen—his thoughts would begin to race—his epinephrine would kick in—but instead he feels a dull, pulsing blankness, a numb heartbeat, like the quick breath of some trapped rodent. He thinks of a rabbit, a small animal in the wild, how it will sink into a motionless state as if it is pretending it is invisible.

“No clue.”

“Wrong.”

Two arms pull him up and drag him forward. His shoulders brush against moist walls.

"Stairs," Kyungsoo whispers.

Sehun’s shoe sole slides over smooth stone. After ten steps they reach a door which reveals a tiny chamber. A faint glow illuminates old furniture which has been pushed against the walls. Dirty bottles and plates are scattered all over the place and a small lamp hangs from the ceiling.

Sehun can’t believe his eyes. A hiding place, he thinks, and for a second he can picture the tents that he used to construct when he was a little boy, the kitchen chairs draped with a big quilt, the dark space in the middle where he would pile pillows and stuffed animals, his own underground nest, which he pictured extending outward into soft, dim, winding corridors made of feathers and blankets.

“Is that where you live?” he asks.

Kyungsoo looks at him, his face blank.

"Do you know something about the mermaids?" Sehun asks, not really sure if Kyungsoo is even able to understand him. The boy looks more confused than ever. "You told me that the dead man in the well was a lord, remember?"

Kyungsoo doesn’t reply and sits down. Sehun watches as the boy feels in the pocket of his jacket, the way someone might grope for a lucky coin, and when he touches an object in his pocket, his eyes focuses again, his resolve begins to return, and his expression settles into a small, private smile.

"I saw how the guards pulled him out," he explains. "Boots covered in rubies, Lord Cho. I knew these boots. He kicked me once. Here! " He points at his hip.

Sehun frowns. He sits down next to the boy and leans forward.

"Was he killed by the mermaids?"

"The twelfth Lord? Oh no. The rebels did that." The boy’s eyes widen and he claps his hand over his mouth.

"It’s okay, Kyungsoo," Sehun hurries to say, noticing the boy’s panic. "I won’t tell anyone about it. I’m just curious…that’s all.”

The boy’s shoulders drop and from his pocket he withdraws a pale blue stone and regards it as if he’s recalling some pleasant long-ago memory. "They're just fighting for what's ours," he says seriously.

"You know the rebels, right?" Sehun’s voice sounds dull and strange in the chamber. "How many are there, Kyungsoo?"

"Not enough," the boy replies. "Never enough compared to all this injustice." He doesn’t look mad at all. He’s oddly calm, his eyes glossy and liveless.

"They're coming back– that's what you said to me. What did you mean by that?"

"The … Ruler,” Kyungsoo replies. It’s sounds more like a cautious question than a reply.

Sehun furrows his brows and thinks for a moment. _Fighting for what's ours._  He thinks of the lords which used to reign before the Winter Wars and frowns. "The two royal brothers from the islands?"

Kyungsoo nods, relieved. He stares down at the table, on which water stains have spread into a map—a continent, surrounded by tiny islands.

Sehun shakes his head. It makes no sense. "But the lady killed the royal family."

The boy’s index finger shoots up. "Not all," he mutters. "Not all. The prince has survived.”

Sehun sits back. He has heard the boy’s words, he can process them, he knows what they mean—but at the same time they don’t feel like real sentences. They sink into his consciousness like a weighted fishing line cast into a pond, and he feels the ripples circle out across his body.

The prince has survived, he thinks, as if the idea is supernatural, science-fictional. How could he believe that such a thing is possible?

“So this prince who managed to escape… Is he leading the rebels?"

Kyungsoo grimaces. "Nobody knows," he says. "Nobody knows, nobody knows." He begins to sway his upper body back and forth.

What am I doing here? Sehun thinks. I’m wasting my time talking to this crazy beggar. But there is also the fantasy of heroic action. A prince full of steely determination. A prince who shows you his gritted teeth: Stay firm! We’ll face this together! We’ll be okay! Or a prince who regrets—eyes brimming with tenderness and sorrow, eyes that say: I am with you. If you suffer, I will suffer tenfold. I send you all my love and my strength.

Sehun lets his eyes fall back to the cloud-shaped water stain on the table. A continent, he thinks. An island, an imaginary country, and he lets his eyes trace along the coastlines, the bays and hills, and he can almost see the royal family, smiling brightly, their cheeks a healthy red. A peaceful place like Seoul once was. 

"How do you know he's still alive?" he asks.

"Because of the mermaids," Kyungsoo whispers. "Only he can call them. The mermaids are coming back. The prince is in town. Born in winter, with revenge in his heart. He's back and ready to fight. "

Sehun finds it difficult to stay patient. He wants to grab Kyungsoo by the shoulders and shake him.

"The mermaids," Sehun says breathlessly. "Tell me more about them. Why is he calling them? Are they helping him to take revenge? Is that why they are killing people? To conquer the city? Kyungsoo, look at me! "

"I forgot," the boy says and grins at him. "Do I know you? Password?"

"Stop acting like you’re crazy!" Sehun orders. He has enough of the boy’s games. “I’m not as stupid as you think. Tell me what you know about the mermaids.”

Kyungsoo’s face goes entirely blank. Sehun notices that his leg has developed a tic, he can feel one of his muscles giving a small involuntary twitch and when he puts his hand on his thigh he can hear another voice in his head, a small, sad tremor. _I don’t want to do this. I think I’ve made a mistake._

The boy finally looks up. He pulls his gaze away from the table and meets Sehun’s eyes and his expression wavers. “They are good,” he says.

Sehun wants to laugh.

"Do you understand their language?” he asks.

Kyungsoo shrugs and turns his face into a perplexed clown's grimace. "I don’t remember!" he says miserably, slamming his hand against his temple, as if knocking on a locked door.

Sehun grabs him by the shoulders and gently forces the boy to look at him. "All right, Kyungsoo, calm down. I have to talk to the rebels, do you understand? I'll leave a message for them here.”

"With what right? Are you one of us?” the boy snaps at him.

Sehun shivers—the involuntary physical response he associates with being wet and cold, but this, this is actual fear, this is what being terrified feels like. I can still go back, he thinks. Back to Minseok, back to his life with the black market and the rifle barrels and the constant fear of hunters.

"Maybe," he says softly.

"Maybe that's not enough," Kyungsoo says sternly. "Maybe sounds like betrayal."

Sehun snorts and gets up. "And betrayal sounds pretty intelligent. I don’t believe you really lost your mind,” he says to the skinny boy.

"You’ll tell your friends that I was here anyway. Warn them of blue jays. They fly deep and mostly in swarms. They belong to the Northerners who live in the Cosmic Railway. They serve the Queen. She knows everything that the birds see.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes grow big. "This doesn’t sound like a maybe to me at all," he says with a sly grin. "I have no idea what you are talking about and whom I should talk to, but let me give you some advice: look out for shards of glass"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I hope you enjoyed this months' chapter! I know we haven't seen much of Junmyeon in this one but I promise that will change soon and I hope you can forgive me for it. At least I gave you some more insight into the world and Kyungsoo's secrets... 
> 
> I listened to Gravity while writing this– personally, my favorite song as of late. I hope all of you have wonderful Christmas holidays!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. <3


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